LiBRARYJE CONGRESS. 
S9 

Chap. Coisyriglit Ko. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Field and Stream. St. Paul. Minn.: "Charles 
Barker Bradford will issue what will prove, per- 
haps, the last and best of the works of Isaac Mc- 
Lellan. " Haunts of Wild Game." It is with the 
keenest and most pleasurable expectation that we 
await the publication of this new volume. Its 
author is a grand example of the preservative ele- 
ment in a life in sun and shade, fanned by the 
breeze and calmed and smoothed beside the fresh- 
ening brook. Few men put forth such vigorous 
sentiment to glorify Nature as that displayed in 
the advance sheets of this work. Nor is it com- 
mon for men of ninety years of age to dedicate a 
journal like the Field and Stream in poetic 
measures of such melodic sweetness expressed by 
Mr. McLellan on another page of this issue. 
" Haunts of Wild Came " is the maturity of along 
life and infinite experience, and it should grace 
the library of Nature's every lover." 



■' Sweet poet, ere I breathe thy name, 

May friendship unalloyed 
Be ever ours, though others claim 

That sacred virture void. 
Thy theme marks soft, virescent spring, 

Full summer's prink'd array. 
Mild autumn's calm, sere withering. 

And winter's gelid day ; 
The angler's cool secluded bower. 

By far lone mountain stream — 
The weary hunter's evening hour. 

Where camp-fire flickers gleam. 
Thus sweet the lay when Nature tunes 

The poet's lyre for song. 
Each sylvan shade where he communes. 

Inspiring Muses throng. 
McLellan, when thy muse no more 

Anew delights the ear. 
Thy laurels — green in days of yore — 

Shall bloom immortal here." 

Fenwood. 



"To him who in the love of nature holds 
Connmunion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language ; for his gayer hours, 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile. 
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
Into his darker musings with a mild 
And healing sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness ere he is aware." 

Bryant. 



* * * "Accordingly we find that those parts 
of the world are the most healthy where they sub- 
sist by the chase ; and that men lived longest 
when their lives were employed in hunting, and 
when they had little food besides what they 
caught." — W. Jones. 



ERRATA : 

Nillis, page 25 ; should read Willis. 

Rry, " 52; " " gay. 

andy, " go; " " sandy. 



To 
The Gentle Sportsmen of America 
This volume is respectfully and affection- 
ately dedicated by their brother 
of the rod and gun, 

Isaac McLellan. 




cyjc^js^tL ^yCc^ oC^^^yC^ 



/tc<^ 



s 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME 



Poems of Woods, Wilds and Waters, 

ISAAC McLELLAN, 

Author of " Poems of the Rod and Gun," " Fall of the In- 
dian," " The Year," " Mount Auburn," " Memoirs 
and Travels of H. B. McLellan," etc., etc. 




-EDITEU ll^■- 



CHARLES BARKER BRADFORD. 



■ There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore. 
There is society where none intrude>>," 



A'HWVo -"^"^-N 



New York : 

Chas. Barker Bradford, 

Publisher, 

487 Broadway. 






Copyright, 1896 

by 

ISAAC McLELLAN 

and 

CHARLES BARKER BRADFORD. 



^ 



THE CONTENTS. 




Author's Preface 23 

Memoir of the Author 25 

FISHES AND FISHING. 

Angling 33 

Angler, The 34 

Angler, Scenes that Greet the 44 

Angler, Resorts of the 77 

Angler's Realm, The 35 

Angler's Haunt, The 36 

Angler's Journal, The 37 

Angler's Delights, The 39 

Angler's Pleasures, The 40 

Angler's Love of the Woods, The 41 

Angler's Day, The 42 

Angling, Poetry of 75 

Blackfish or Tautog, The 89 

Bluefish 85 



17 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Boston Mackerel, The 86 

Brook of Auld Lang Syne, The 43 

Catfish, The 47 

Channel Bass of Florida, The 81 

Cod, Haddock and Halibut 87 

Drumfish, The 88 

Fisherman's 111 Luck, The 46 

Fishing in a Maine Lake 48 

Fishing Scenes of Old, Revisiting 76 

Florida Fishing 80 

Flower-Crowned Florida 79 

Izaak Walton 49 

Izaak Walton on the Pleasures of Angling. ... 50 

Izaak Walton's "Complete Angler's" Retreat. 51 

Izaak Walton's Converse with an Angler 52 

Luminous Bait 60 

Mascalonge and the Pickerel, The 58 

Meadow and Woodland Streams, The 57 

Menhaden, The 84 

Prolific Streams of Africa 56 

Salmon Fishing 66 

Salmon Fishing of Labrador 70 

Salmon Fishing in Goodbout River, Canada. , 12 

Salmon Fishing in the Far West 71 

Salmon Pools 69 

Salmon Waters 68 

Sea Bass Fishing 90 

Spring Time Fishing 45 

Stream of our Youth, The 73 

Tarpon Fishing in Florida '82 

Trouting 61 

Trout Brook, The 63 

Trout Brook Glen 64 

i8 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Trout Brook; Pleasant Spot in the Woods. ... 65 

Trout, When and Where to Angle for 62 

Twin Fathers. The 54 

Weakfish. The 89 

SPORTSMEN AND NATURALISTS. 

Audubon's JMonument 104 

Dedicatory to ' ' Field and Stream " 1 08 

Frank Forester's Monument 105 

Lines to a Brother Sportsman 106 

National Sportsmen's Association. 102 

Sportsman's Carnival Season 99 

Sportsmen's Clubs 100 

Sportsman's Love of Nature, The 98 

Sportsman's Greeting, The 96 

Veteran Sportsman, The 95 

WITH RIFLE AND SHOT GUN. 

African Hunters and Explorers 175 

African Lion and other Animals 183 

African Lion, Roar of 182 

Antelope, The 166 

Autumn Sport 112 

Bay Snipe, Autumn Flight of 119 

Black Bear, The 158 

Buffalo, The Last 1 63 

Canvasback Duck 128 

Canadian Voyageur and Hunter, The 153 

Caribou Hunting in a Canadian Winter 148 

Cougar 171 

Deer 144 

Elk or Wapiti. The 1 64 

19 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Fall Duck Shooting 123 

Far West, The 154 

Field Sports in Early Days 143 

Fowl Shooting on the Atlantic Coast 122 

Frontier Hunter, The 162 

Great Gray Wolf 1 72 

Gun, The 110 

Haunts of the Deer 145 

Hunting the African Ostrich 1 78 

Hunting the Deer ... 146 

Hunting the Giraffe 1 79 

Hunting the Grizzly Bear 160 

Hunting the Moose 150 

Hunting the Njena-Gorilla . 181 

Hunting Scene Among the Rockies, A 157 

Inland Ducks 125 

Jack-Snipe Shooting 116 

Loggers and Hunters 1 52 

Moose 149 

Morning, Noon and Night 156 

Mountain Sheep Hunting 168 

Mule Deer 1 67 

Nighthawk, Flight of the 117 

Plover, The 117 

Prairie Wolf 173 

Rocky Mountain Goat 170 

Ruffed Grouse, The 115 

Scaup Duck, Bluebill or Broadbill 124 

Sharp-tailed Grouse 136 

Sprig-tail Duck 127 

Teal Shooting 129 

Valley Quail 138 

Wild Fowl Shooting ' 120 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Wild Game of Africa 176 

Wild Geese 131 

Wild Geese, Flight of 133 

Wild Geese, Migrations of 132 

Wild Pigeon, Nesting and Feeding Roosts of., 137 

White Polar Bear 1 85 

Wild Swan, The 134 

Wild Turkey 140 

Wild Turkey Hunting 141 

Wood Duck or Summer Duck 126 

Woodcock Shooting 113 

CAMPS AND CAMPING. 

Beyond the Rocky Mountains 196 

Camps in the Timberline Range 197 

Hunter's Camp, The, '. 188 

In Camp at Saranac Lake 192 

Musing at an Adirondack Lake 191 

Our Camps in the Far West 195 

The Angler in Camp 189 

Woods and Waters of Maine, The 193 

MISCELLANEA. 

Forests and Streams 206 

Forest Music 202 

Greenwood Lake 202 

Long Island Beach 20 1 

Mount Tahawas 204 

Summer Exodus, The 205 




Mr. McLellan in i8 



PREFACE. 

Our vast country, reaching from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific coast, from the northern lakes to the 
Gulf of Mexico, abounds with almost all varieties 
of wild game and fish of the choicest qualities. 
The ocean, the river, the lake, the brook, moun- 
tain, forest and prairie, have their peculiar tenants. 
Almost unlimited are the attractions of field and 
flood in our extensive lands, and to describe their 
varieties, mode of life and capture, the scenery 
where they are found, has been the business of the 
naturalist and sportsman ; and the author has here 
sought to contribute his part to the general store of 
knowledge. As the varieties of noble game and 
fish of our land and waters are greater and more 
attractive than in any other country, (with the ex- 
ception perhaps of Africa) so nowhere are the 
sports of field and flood more universally followed 
than with us. 

The consideration of these facts and the desire 
to contribute something to the treasury of know- 
ledge of our game and fish, and to depict the 
pleasures to be enjoyed in their pursuit has led the 
writer to prepare this work, and if it may yield 
pleasure to any person, and especially to brother 
sportsmen, he will feel that he is amply rewarded. 

The author, in preparing a work that might per- 
haps be styled a book of natural history, has not 
confined his pen strictly to descriptions of birds, 
fish and animals that are considered as game, but 
has included others that have no claim to such title. 

In within a few years, a great number of sports- 
men's associations have been inaugurated, consist- 
ing of gentlemen of leisure, intelligence and high 
repute, who are interested in field sports and the 
preservation of game and fish, and to gain their 
brotherly favor, would be high honor. There has 
ever been a friendly, brotherly feeling among sports- 
men, and this fact has encouraged me to offer this 
work to their notice and regard, and to them it is 
respectfully inscribed. 

23 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



In 1886 I issued a volume of poems, consisting 
chiefly of articles on field sports, styled " Poems of 
the Rod and Gun," which was met with cordial 
reception, so that 1 have been induced to prepare 
this second work on field sports, which consists of 
pieces that have been published by leading sports- 
men's journals, within the past ten years, all 
written since the issue of " Poems of the Rod and 
Gun " and never before collected in one volume. 



Isaac McLellan. 



Greenport, 

Long Island, 

New York, 

Sept. 1, 

1896. 




24 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. 

Isaac McLellan, the poet-sportsman, is ninety 
years old. He resides at Greenport. Long Island. 
N. Y., where he still enjoys fishing and shooting 
and the gentle study of out-door things. Though 
retired from the duties of professional literature, 
the brilliant old gentleman still occasionally takes 
up his pen and writes as charmingly as ever. He 
has studied birds, fishes and wild game in general, 
and written about the species and their haunts, for 
nearly three quarters of a century. 

Every sportsman and naturalist and every book 
lover of the day, knows the history of Isaac Mc- 
Lellan, memoir after memoir of him having ap- 
peared in books, newspapers, magazines and re- 
views all over the world : but there are many 
young people who will see this new volume, and 
it is to them these few introductory words are ad- 
dressed. 

Isaac McLellan was born in Portland. Maine — 
the birth-place, likewise, of his life-long friends, 
Henry W. Longfellow and N. P. Nillis — on May 
21, in the year 1806. 

To further introduce my old friend, I could not 
do better than to copy the greater part of the me- 
moir written by my fellow sportsman, Fredrick E. 
Pond, of Westfield. Wis., in McLellan 's " Poems 
of the Rod and Gun,"' published by my friend, 
Henry Thorpe, of Brooklyn, N. Y.. in 1886. I 
quote as follows : 

"The parents of McLellan and Willis removed 
to Boston, and at the age of thirteen both youths 
were sent to Phillips Academy, Andover. Mass., to 
be fitted for college. From thence McLellan went 
to Bowdoin College, and Willis to Yale. During 
his college life Isaac McLellan was in the next 
class to Longfellow. Hawthorne. Cheever, and 
other distinguished writers. His friendship with 
Longfellow continued unchanged up to the time of 
the demise of the latter, revived and strengthened 

25 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



during absence by correspondence. After gradua- 
ting he engaged in the practice of law for several 
years in Boston, and was then in almost daily in- 
tercourse with N. P. Willis, at that time editor of 
the Boston Monthly Magazine. The brilliant Sar- 
gent S. Prentiss, was a devoted lover of shooting, 
and oft together on Saturday afternoons would 
young McLellan and Prentiss ramble through the 
woods in pursuit of game. When Henry W. Long- 
fellow was established at Cambridge as Professor, 
the old intimacy of the two friends was renewed, 
both in Boston and at the home of the great poet 
in Cambridge. 

During his editorial career in Boston, Isaac Mc- 
Lellan was engaged as associate editor of the Daily 
Patriot — afterward incorporated with the Daily Ad- 
vertiser — and soon after began the publication of a 
monthly magazine, which he finally consolidated 
with the Weekly Pearl, formerly published by 
Isaac C. Pray. About this time he contributed 
largely to Willis's Monthly Magazine, the New 
England Magazine, the rare old Knickerbocker, 
Bryant's famous United States Literary Gazette, 
and various other periodicals, both in poetry and 
prose, many of his poems attracting widespread at- 
tention and admiration. At different periods Mr. 
McLellan wrote three volumes of poems, which 
were published by Allen & Ticknor, Boston. These 
works were entitled, respectively, "The Fall of the 
Indian," "The Year," and " Mount Auburn." The 
poems were well received by the public, and one 
of the volumes received a very friendly notice from 
the editor of Blackwood's Magazine, who quoted 
and highly commended a little gem, "The Trout 
Brook," the only poem on sporting topics in the 
three works. 

While engaged in these literary pursuits. Mr. 
McLellan employed his leisure time in the sport of 
wild-fowl shooting upon the sea-coast, this being 
the principal pastime of many New England sports- 
men. After making a tour of two years in Europe, 

26 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



he gave up the practice of law and his literary 
labors, withdrawing to the tranquil joys of rural 
life, where he might find ample use for gun and 
rod. His passionate love for field-sports, and more 
especially wild fowl shooting, inspired him to write 
in prose and verse on sporting subjects ; and the 
delicacy of sketching, the inspiring sentiment, and 
rare vigor of these poems bespoke at once the able 
writer and keen sportsman. Willis and other dis- 
tinguished writers have given Mr. McLellan the 
credit of being in several respects the finest poet 
in America. Genio C. Scott has remarked very 
truly that " McLellan is as a poet on field-sports 
what Gen. George P. Morris was as a song-writer 
— both unsurpassed in their way." While in 
Europe he shot and fished in nearly all portions of 
the country, and thus added to his critical observa- 
tion of American game and shooting a practical 
knowledge of the field-sports of the Continent. 

Among the favorite shooting resorts which he 
was wont to frequent were Cohasset, Plymouth, 
and Marshfield. Mass., the latter being the rural 
home of that immortal orator and statesman. 
Daniel Webster. Through his courtesy, Isaac Mc- 
Lellan passed two seasons at Marshfield. dwelling 
at one of the farm-houses belonging to Mr. Webs- 
ter. Here he had an opportunity of seeing the 
great sportsman almost daily, enjoying his usual 
labors and his rambles with rod or gun. 

Daniel Webster passed many of his most de- 
lightful days shooting at Brant Rock, in his light 
gunning skiff, or trout-fishing in the clear stream- 
lets of the vicinity. As an angler, no man, per- 
haps, was ever more ardent and enthusiastic, and 
it is doubtless in some degree due to the vivifying 
influences of this manly recreation that he was en- 
abled, when necessary, to undergo such continued 
labor as that which fell to his lot in Washington. 
He was equally at home along the trout-streams, 
on the bay. or in the Senate chamber: the same 



27 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



dignified, courteous gentleman, whether in the 
field, on the farm, or on the forum. 

Nearly thirty-five years ago Mr. McLellan re- 
moved to New York City, and there formied the ac- 
quaintance of the sporting celebrities of the day, 
who congregated at the old Spirit office, where 
Wm. T. Porter (•' YorK's Tall Son ") presided — one 
of the best-known, and, at that time, the most 
popular of all the editorial fraternity in Gotham. 
Here he frequently met with "Frank Forester," 
and the acquaintance formed from " tastes kindred 
and pursuits common " soon ripened into friend- 
ship, which existed to the time of the tragic death 
of the great sporting author. His sketches of H. 
W. Herbert in prose attest a friendship and a sym- 
pathy which may well deserve notice, while his 
lines to the memory of his departed friend possess 
a pathos and sublimity, combined with symmetry 
and grace, rare'y equalled. It was through the 
instrumentality of Herbert, that Mr. McLellan se- 
cured a fine resort at Barnegat Bay for snipe and 
water-fowl shooting, and there enjoyed many days 
of glorious sport. 

During several years he passed a part of each 
season on the coast of Virginia and at Currituck 
Sound. N. C, where the water-fowl were then very 
abundant. In later years he has followed the 
sport of duck-shooting at Shinnecock and Great 
South Bays, Long Island, where he has resided for 
some time, in close proximity to the finest resorts 
of wild-fowl. 

While in Virginia he contributed a valuable 
sketch to his friend Genio C. Scott's " Fishing in 
American Waters," and the poetical gems in that 
standard work were also supplied by McLellan. His 
ardor for field-sports has an intensity which age 
cannot quench, and his pen is still as vigorous in 
depicting those' sports which he loves to describe 
as in earlier life. 

The late Wendell Phillips held our bard m high 
estimation : and the various collectors of American 

28 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



poetry, such as Dr. Griswold. Dr. Cheevers, Mr. 
Kettell, and others, all give him an honorable place 
in their pages. 

At the age of fourscore years the venerable 
sportsman-bard stands practically alone in his 
favorite field of labor. In the peaceful evening of 
a well-rounded life he may be regarded as the hon- 
ored patriarch and preceptor of a fraternity believ- 
ing in the creed that "the groves are God's best 
temples" — a fraternity that frequents the green- 
wood and green fields of nature rather than the 
greenroom and the green table. That the precept 
and practice of our poet of the woods and waters 
are in harmony, may be safely assumed from the 
fact recorded in a recent letter to the writer, that 
during the whole course of his life he has never 
been seriously ill until within the past month, when 
he was confined to his room for a time ~by an at- 
tack of pneumonia. This remarkable exemption 
from the ills supposed to be the dire inheritance of 
all mortal flesh must be attributed not alone to the 
abstemious habits of the bard, but to his life-long 
devotion to outdoor sports. It may be reasonably 
hoped that many years of life and usefulness are 
yet in store for him, and that his rhythmic num- 
bers may continue to flow on as smoothly 

' As the liquid trill of the wayside brook, 
Or the placid lake by the breeze forsook.' " 

Mr. Pond wrote this memoir ten years ago, but 
it sounds as well to-day, for Isaac McLellan at this 
writing, though, as I have said, ninety years old, 
is as hale and hearty as in 1886. 

The pieces in the present volume have been 
written since 1886, when Mr. Thorpe published 
Mr. McLellan's " Poems of the Rod and Gun " 
which contained nearly two hundred poems similar 
in subjects and titles to the contents of the present 
volume. 

Nearly all of the pieces, both of " Poems of the 
Rod and Gun" and " Haunts of Wild Game,"' have 
appeared singly in leading publications, among 



29 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



them the Home Journal, Gameland, Forest and 
Stream, Turf, Field and Farm, the Amateur 
Sportsman, The American Field. Recreation and 
the Brooklyn Eagle. 

Isaac McLellan is the last of the great poets of 
America. He wrote side by side and was classed 
with Longfellow, Holmes, Willis and Bryant, and 
is the last to leave the field. 

He is the last of the sportsmen of the " Frank 
Forester " period. He knew Forester (Henry Will- 
iam Herbert) intimately, and with him and Genio C. 
Scott, William T. Porter ("York's Tall Son "), Ned 
Buntline, Harry Fenwood and hosts of other equally 
famous sportsmen, enjoyed many a day afield. 

His literary companions through life have been 
such men as Daniel Webster. Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
Henry W. Longfellow, William CuUen Bryant, N. 
P. Willis, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jas. Freeman 
Clarke, Geo. P. Morris, Henry William Herbert. 
Samuel C. Clarke and Seargent S. Prentiss. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote to McLellan on 
April 4. 1886 : " 1 remember well the time when 
we were writing side by side in the same periodicals 
and annuals. * * * i hope you still enjoy the 
outdoor life which you have helped to render 
attractive, and that you will throw a fly and bring 
down your bird after you are counted among the 
centenarians." 

Henry W, Longfellow wrote : " 1 see you in im- 
agination, tramping with your gun and dogs over 
frozen marshes, eager for any birds that have not 
been wise enough to migrate southward at this 
season (February 6, 1875). 'Straight a short 
thunder breaks the frozen sky,' and the beautiful 
creatures fall and ' leave their little lives in air.' 
Meanwhile 1 sit here by my fire, busy with the 
reading and making of books: not so healthy a 
recreation as yours, perhaps, but more congenial to 
my taste. My old enemy neuralgia sometimes 
troubles me, and then 1 suffer like Laocoon with 
his serpents " 



3° 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Rochester, (N. Y.) Union and Advertiser: "Isaac 
McLellan is a veteran rhymster. who sings of the 
chase and nature in her wildest moods. He, him- 
self, is a sturdy oak, and an hour spent in his com- 
pany is like getting a breath from the forests of 
which he loves to write and in which he has spent 
so many happy days. His reminiscences of Wil- 
liam Henry Herbert (Frank Forester), and other 
notable people whom he has met in the course of 
his long life, are most enjoyable." 

Harry Fenwood in Turf, Field and Farm : " Mr. 
McLellan is in truth a rural poet. * * * and 
his genius in many instances surpasses that of his 
predecessors." 

James Freeman Clarke : " You may almost be 
called one of the pioneers of American poetry — 
hewing a path through the forests over which an 
army of writers has since passed." 

Forest and Stream : " Mr. McLellan's Muse 
has taken all animated nature for her own." 

New York Times: "Mr. McLellan is known 
all over the United States as the poet who sings of 
the woods, of the streams, of the birds, beasts, and 
fish. There is hardly a sportsman who does not 
remember some happy line of Mr. McLellan's, for 
he occupies alone the position of 'the American 
laureate of the brookside and riverside. In Daniel 
Webster's time near Marshfield our poet sportsman 
spent many a happy hour as the guest of the great 
expounder." 

Brooklyn Daily Eagle: "When one considers 
the great difficulty of using verse for narrative pur- 
poses Mr. McLellan's success must appear quite 
remarkable." 

The Spirit of the Times: "The author was a 
friend of Wm. T. Porter, ' Frank Forester,' and the 
distinguished coterie which made the Spirit office 
its headquarters quite thirty-five years ago." 

Saturday Evening Gazette, Boston: "The 
poems are spirited, flowing, full of local color, and 
correct in treatment." 



31 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Mirror of American Sports, Chicago : "In the 

domain of poetry of the field and stream, we know 
of nothing so fine as the work of Isaac McLellan." 

Home Journal, New York: "The author has 
the peculiar distinction among the choir of singers 
of being a successful Nimrod, able to enact the ex- 
ploits he celebrates by flood and field." 

American Sportsman, Cincinnati, 0,: "That 
the writer must have been an enthusiastic devotee 
of the sports of which he writes is evidenced by the 
vividness in which the scenes stand forth desired to 
be called up by the author." 

Cincinnati Gazette: "When Mr. McLellan 
strikes the lyre on his favorite subjects he is worth 
listening to. His poems are smooth and musical. 
Their subjects are original. They have the quin- 
tessence, too, of a veteran sportsman's well bought 
knowledge." 

Peck's Sun: "Mr. McLellan's poems have a 
flavor of woodland, stream and lake that will re- 
mind every reader of Auld Lang Syne, or of more 
recent days spent in Nature's solitude with rod and 
gun, and make him long to again enjoy himself in 
that way." 

Medical Advance, Ann Harbor. Mich.: "What 
G. P, Morris was as a song writer, McLellan is as 
a poet on field sports — each a master in his special 
field." 

The Express, Montello, Wis.: " No doubt, in 
many respects, one of the finest poets in America." 

Thus it will be seen that the good old man was 
not merely a writer of the thousands in the days of 
Longfellow and Holmes, but was a recognized 
equal and friend. 



New York. May 15, 1896, 
32 



FISHES AND FISHING. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



ANGLING. 
When the rosy flame of day crimsons the silvery 

mist. 
And from the valley rolls away the haze by sun- 
beams kiss'd, 
Then to the the bowery woods 1 pass with angling 

rod and line. 
While yet the dewdrops on the grass, like lucid 

diamonds shine. 
How vast the mossy forest halls, how silent, full of 

gloom ! 
Thro' the arch'd roof the daybeam falls, like torch- 
light in a tomb. 
Brown trunks of trees rise all around, like pillars 

in a church of old. 
And the wind fills them with a sound as if a bell 

were tolled. 
Where falls the sparkling stream in bubbles clear 

and bright. 
Along whose grassy margin gleam flowers lovely 

to th? sight. 
There silently 1 stand, watching my trout-flies 

play, 
And eagerly draw to the brink my speckled prey. 
Oft ere the carrion-bird hath left its eyrie, the dead 

tree, 
Or ere the eagle's wing hath cleft the cloud in 

heaven's blue sea. 
Or ere the lark's swift pinion speeds to meet the 

early day. 
My foot hath press'd the yellow reeds, my rod 

sought out its prey. 
And when the twilight, with a blush on her fair 

cheek, slips by. 
And evening's universal hush fills all the darken- 
ing sky, 
And steadily the tapers burn in distant village 

homes. 
Then from the peaceful stream I turn, and from 

the forest glooms. 



33 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ANGLER. 



I sing the angler's joys the angler's toil, 

That lure him from the pent-up city's din, 
From luxury and pride and greed of gain. 

From strife of riches and resorts of sin. 
They lead him forth to Nature's purest scenes 

Where he can contemplate in placid mood ; 
Can look from Nature "up to nature's God." 

Roaming by tranquil stream and drooping wood. 
How pure, refined, these true delights must be, 

To those who love to view each wondrous scene. 
Can with instructed eye these worlds behold, 

The solemn groves, the fields of living green. 
How pitiful, how trivial must appear. 

The scenes they left, the crowd, the noisy mart. 
As Nature's kindly spell refines the mind. 

And soothes, and purifies the human heart. 
'Mid the sublimities that rock and mount. 

Forest and torrent everywhere combine. 
The mind is toned harmonious with the scene. 

The knee is lowly bent at Nature's shrine. 
As the grand shadows sweep the mountain brow, 

As the brisk breeze sweeps thro' the woodlands 
deep. 
The soul is touched, the senses full receive 

The grandeur and the music as they sweep. 
'Mid the repose of Nature's gentle realms, 

Where hills uprise from grassy meadows bright. 
Where village-spire peeps o'er the tufted trees, 

And chiming bells to evening prayer invite. 
Where clank of distant mill-wheel in the air. 

Is scarcely heard above each rural sound. 
The hum of bee. the song of tuneful bird. 

The low of cattle in the pastures round. 
When images of peace possess the soul, . 

The angler's mind assumes a musing train : 
Banish'd are sordid struggles of the world. 

The traffic and the fraud, the lust of gain. 

34 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The soul with purfer influence is stirr'd, 

The inmost thoughts are of a gentler mood, 
Fill'd with more charity for human sin, 

Thrill'd with more genial impulses of good. 
Dear Angler ! as you lay your tackle by 

Shut the slim rod and fold the silken line. 
Think, as the months inclement, bluster past. 

Of summer pleasures and of worlds divine. 



THE ANGLER'S REALM. 

The angler finds in all this ample realm 

Pleasures, allurements wheresoe're he roams. 

By Mississippi floods. Ohio's streams. 

By Alleghany mounts or river foams. 

By solemn woods or in the vallies green, 

In rocky gulch, where endless torrents pour, 

In gorge and ravines, where steep waterfalls 

Incessant beat the borders of the shore. 

By every stream in Nature's broad domain, 

In placid lake, clear brook and spacious bay. 

In Northern tides where salmon plunge and leap 

He finds rich pastimes, a glad holiday. 

He reaps a harvest for his rod and line 

In Adirondack lakes, so crystal-clear. 

In placid ponds and rivulets of Maine. 

He seeks enjoyment to his heart so dear. 

Gains health and transport on each watery plain 

From far Pacific to Atlantic main. 

In lovliest scenes he rare allurments finds. 

Where winds the rippling brook thro' meadows 

green, 
Casting the feathered fly, the barbed hook 
O'er boiling rapids or in depths serene. 
So ever in such sport he seeks delight. 
By shadowy grove and in the currents pure, 
For charms of Nature everywhere prevail. 
In gloom of forest or on sylvan moor. 
He finds a beauty, an eternal charm 
In all the haunts beneath the arching skies, 

35 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



In summer greenery, in autumn flush. 

In groves frost-colored by commingled dyes. 

In spring-tide brooks, bright-edged with varied 

flowers. 
Fring'd with red roses and the lilies white, 
He gains enticements for his every sense, 
A transport and perfume, a fresh delight ; 
He communes with kind Nature in her homes. 
Charm'd with new raptures wheresoe'er he roams. 
Nature's fair features ever smile the same. 
For lapse of years may ne'er disturb her face. 
She welcomes the good angler to her shrine, 
And bounteous greets him in each sylvan place. 
Each stream he haunts is rich with spangled trout. 
In estuaries wide, in channels steep; 
He takes the salmon or the tarpon-king. 
And bass and blue-fish by the watery deep. 



THE ANGLER'S HAUNT. 

Soon as the earliest shaft of light 

Shoots o'er the summit of the wood, 
Touching with gold each tufted height. 

Tinging the ripples of the flood. 
The angler stands on river banks 

Where fall the willow's drooping plumes. 
Where grow the osiers green and rank 

And water-lilies ope their blooms. 
He loves the walk o'er the grassy plain. 

The tramp thro' tussock and thick swale. 
The path through the uplands' high domain. 

Or adown the hollow vale. 
There in some sweet, secluded place 

He scans the water's dimpled sweep. 
Notes where the rippling eddies race, 

And where the trout schools leap. 
Then swings his rod with sturdy hand. 

Casts the long line with skill. 
And quick is bent the tapering wand 

And the reel singeth shrill. 

36 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Mayhap he seeks the pebbled shore 
Where billows curl their crest. 

Or round the weedy boulders pour, 
Forever frothing, ne'er at rest ; 

And there upon some jutting rock 
He swings the rod. he casts the line. 

He drags the bluefish from the brine. 



THE ANGLER'S JOURNAL. 

As the gay songiters in the budding grove 
Welcome with melodies so liquid sweet. 
The roseate Spring-time in each orchard space — 
Chant:ng glad poems in each wood-retreat — 
So doth the angler with blithe greetings hail 
The May days' dancing over hill and dale. 
Bearing fresh garlands of the rose and pink, 
Wreaths of the crocus and the lilies pale. 
So doth his soul o'erflow with perfect joy. 
Seeing the streamlets break their icy chain 
And run rejoicing down the grassy slopes. 
Leaping with laughter o'er the meadow plain. 
So the keen anglers welcome with a cheer. 
This new-born journal. *sacred to their art. 
Whose printed page shall celebrate the bliss. 
That in sweet Spring-time thrills the angler's heart. 
In its fair lines the early birds shall sing. 
Transcendent flowers enamel all the mead. 
'Twill echo the soft merriment of brooks. 
And to fresh streams most ardent anglers lead. 
Musing o'er th' Angler's Journal, he will trace. 
In fancy the clear stream he knew of old. 
The brook that crept adown the meadow-space. 
Slipping in ripples o'er the sands of gold : 
Again, as in old times, he'll cast the line. 
The humble worm or artificial fly. 
Where the slow stream in purple deeps would sleep 
Or sparkle o'er the pebbles merrily. 
In thought he will revisit the old pond, 
That spreads its placid surface by the mill. 
Its shores with lily-pads, and willows Hn'd, 

37 



HAUNTS OF WtLD GAME. 



Where the gay song-birds pour'd incessant trill. 

He will remember and explore again. 

Those noble streams in Adirondack woods ; 

Homes of the black-bats, and the speckled trout. 

That love the shades of forest solitudes. 

Again will breathe the spicy woodland air, 

The fir-tree's breath, the pine-woods rare perfume ; 

Will build with leafy boughs his forest camp. 

Free and delighted with the sunless gloom. 

In this fair Journal he will find record, 

Of anglers' joys in pathless woods of Maine, 

At the head waters of Penobscot stream. 

Or where dear Greenwood spreads its watery plain. 

Here. too. he'll share exilerating joys, 

Reading of triumphs by the billowy shore. 

At Long Branch, Sheepshead or Canarsie bays, 

Or where the surf by green Long Island pours. 

Fairest of all, the angler's paradise — 

Florida, worthy of supremest fame — 

Where channel-bass and sheepshead cleave the 

deeps. 
And leaps the tarpon, chief of salty game. 
Come, then, dear anglers, tourists, haste to share 
The bounteous feasts by this new Journal spread ; 
Then turn to seek fair scenes depicted here 
By surf and stream through angling ardor led. 



3^ 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ANGLER'S DELIGHTS. 

'Mid scenes of beauty the angler moves, 

Follows the river's silver course. 
Knows all its windings to the sea, 

Knows its meanders from its source. 
Knows all the leapings that it fakes 

In bold cascade and waterfall. 
Bubbling o'er rapids in career 

With roaring voice or mellow call. 
He knows the solitude of its depths, 

Its sparkling o'er each shallow route. 
Knows where to seek the sable bass 

And where the flashing, springing trout. 
He welcomes Nature when she laughs 

With budding groves and flowers of spring 
With violet flowers and dew-wet grass 

And sumptuous orchards blossoming ; 
The rustling sedges music make ; 

The robins, meadow-larks pipe sweet : 
The brown thrush and the bobolink 

With soft, melodious chantings greet. 
He throws the line when autumn time 

Flashes the skies and woods with light. 
When orchards bend with golden fruits 

And fields with harvest grain are bright. 
And when the winter snows lie deep 

Forth to some summer clime he hies, 
Where Florida is red with flowers 

And warm'd by semi-tropic skies. 
There in that glowing land forgets 

The storms that lash his northern shore. 
Loving to tread the orange groves, 

That Eden Paradise explore. 
There casts his line in broad lagoon 

Or where the mangrove isles expand, 
For channel bass, crevalle or drum. 

For grouper or the tarpon grand. 



39 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

THE ANGLER'S PLEASURES. 
The angler's joys we celebrate — the sports 

That lure him from tumultuous scenes of life, 
That win him from the city's noisy street, 

From mart, from wharf, from avaricious strife. 
Tiey lead him forth to Nature's loveliest scenes, 

Where he can roam in meditative mood, 
Can muse by margin of the sparkling stream 

Or linger in the shadows of the wood. 
How pure, refined, their dear delights must be 

Who with instructed eye these scenes survey, 
When dawning's first effulgence o'er them steals. 

Or twilight's roseate blushes o'er them play. 
Their upturn'd eyes with transport and with awe 

The grand sublimities of Nature view. 
The peaks mountainous with their crowns of snow, 

The torrents storming the wild ravines through. 
There shaggy forests frown o'er each abyss, 

The dusky hemlocks and the shivering pines ; 
And in swift eddies whirling o'er the rocks, 

They cast with cunning hand the spinning line. 
They walk thro' meadows blazing thick with 
blooms. 

They track the wimpling brook thro' thickets 
green. 
Their senses thrill with rapture as they gaze. 

Their minds are tone'd harmonious with the 
scene. 
They list with tranquil joy each rural sound, 

The low of herds, the mill wheel's pleasing hum, 
The village bells — the songs of harvest field. 

The melodies of bird-choirs, never dumb. 
O'er the blue bay as dreamily they float 

They note all beauties of the woodland shore. 
And by the borders of the sounding sea 

They list the breaker's voice, the billow's roar. 
'Mid .such fair scenes the purest influence dwells, 

Where images of peace the soul pervade ; 
On Nature's bosom they find perfect rest. 

All griefs and sorrows of the world allay'd. 
40 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ANGLER'S LOVE OF THE WOODS. 

Dear to the angler's heart the shadowy groves. 

Whose leafy branches droop above the stream. 
Some full-brimm'd river sweeping on its way. 

Now dim in shade and now bright in gleam. 
They greet, they beckon him with all their leaves, 

They welcome him with silences and sound. 
Their birds with swelling operas invite, 

Their wild flowers all his wandering steps sur- 
round. 
He seeks the woods that hem St. Lawrence Guif. 

And there, y/here rush the waters to the deep. 
He casts the shining fly with nervous hand, 

And takes the lordly salmon as they leap. 
He seeks the depths of Adirondack wilds, 

Where the primeval forests weave their shades ; 
And there his barbed hook and pliant rod 

Take springing trout from ripples and cascades. 
Dear to the angler's heart the far-spread lake. 

Encircled dense with groves of living green. 
Where willows dip their tassels in the wave 

And oak and hemlock form impervious screen. 
Dear to the angler's heart the rivulet's flow, 
That winds and sparkles thro ' the grassy mead. 
Its banks enamell'd with the wilding flower. 
Its roses red, its water-lilies pale. 
Dear to the angler's heart the old mill pond. 

With its still deeps, its fall of foamy white, 
For t.^ere, o'er pebbly shoal and sandy bar. 

The sr.ining fishes glitter in his sight. 
When by the river or the brooklet stream. 
With all their gloom, with all their changeful 

gleam. 
With their soft praUle and their joyous play, 
How swift pass moments of each lovely day ! 



41 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ANGLER'S DAY. 

"There is no life more pleasant than the life of the well 
governed angler."- 7.:aaA; Walton. 

Equipt with rod and reel and creel. 

Forth to the river side I pass 
Ere yet the crimson orb of day- 
Touches the leaves and dewy grass : 
1 saunter down the shaded lane, 

Haste o'er the meadow green. 
Then pause beneath a drooping tree, 

That yields its friendly screen : 
And here unseen 1 scan the stream, 

Its ripples and still deeps. 
To note where lurk the dusky bass 

And where the big trout leaps. 
And when the sun peeps o'er the hill. 

All nature is awake. 
The song birds tune their tinkling lyres 

In thicket, bush and brake : 
The robin on the elm branch sings. 

The meadow lark on sprays. 
And all the fluttering, feather'd choir 

Their matin anthems raise. 
The wind is sweet with breath of flcwers. 

Soft sighs it thro' the wood : 
Fair sights, sweet sounds delight the sense. 

To charm the angler's mood. 

He casts his silken braided line 

Where eddies o'er the pebbles boil. 
Where ripples and the foam bells sweep 

O'er rock beds in turmoil ; 
He casts where dim and deep the stream 

Flows 'neath the o'erhanging bark. 
Where wild red roses cluster thick 

And golden rods grow rank ; 
And oft his tempting fly doth lure. 
And oft the barb'd hooks secure ! 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE BROOK OF AULD LANG SYNE. 

As months and rolling years depart. 

And human lives decline, 
With an intenser love the heart 

Clingeth to auld lang syne : 
Though costly roof and gilded dome 

Above us brightly shii'.e. 
Still do we cherish childhood's home, 

The roof of auld lang syne ! 
We love the song of piping bird. 

Sheep bleat and low of kine. 
For hymn of bird and sounds of herd 

Remind of auld lang syne. 
We love at dawn's encrimson'd break 

Thro' grove of cak or pine 
To pass, for near them gleams the lake 

And brook of auld lang syne. 
Ah ! happy time, enchanting time ! 

When first with rod and line. 
We hasten'd in the sweet June time 

To brooks of auld lang sayne : 
Where shadows of the branching oak 

Made dim the tranquil stream. 
Where bright the spangled beauties broke 

With such resplendent gleam ! 
We knew each sandy bar and cove. 

Each rock where ripples spun. 
Each shallow where the lilies throve. 

Each reach where currents run ; 
We knew where 'neath each green bank side 

Where red the roses twine. 
In hollow'd cave the darlings hide. 

The trout of auld lang syne ! 



43 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SCENES THAT GREET THE ANGLER. 

Deep amid the arching woods 

It is pleasant to recline, 
When the dewey twinkling leaves 

With the early sunbeams shine : 
Then the bending grass around 

Fringing the embowering glade. 
Gleams, as if with diamonds sown, 

Or with Orient pearls inlaid. 
Fragrant then the breath of morn. 

Wafting over dew-wet fields, 
Where each lowly herb that springs 

Grateful incense lavish yields. 
And each blooming wildwood flower. 

Lovely, graceful, as it bends 
To the wooing breeze a dower 

Of the choicest odor lends. 
By the hedges that skirt the way, 

Thick the pmk-hued wild rose grows, 
By the margin of the brook. 

Red the Cardinal blossom glows. 
In the meadow's verdant lap, 

Thick the scarlet strawberries bloom, 
And their soft, delicious scent 

Yields the sweetest of perfume. 
Countless as the stars of heaven 

Are the purple violets spread. 
Pouring from their honied cups 

Incense o'er the grassy bed. 
Deep amid those shady woods 

It is pleasant to recline. 
When the sultry beams of noon 

O'er the swooning woodlands shine. 
Then beneath some thick-leaved beech, 

Or a pine tree's dusky shade 
Or a willow's drooping bower. 

Pleasant is your refuge made. 
When a shadow is o'er the stream. 

And a ripple crisps its face. 
Soft and silent be your tread. 



44 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



At your favorite angling place. 
Then with deftest skill you cast 

Silken line and feather'd lure, 
Soon your creel is filling f ist 

With the spangled, brilliant spoil 
Rich reward for all your toil. 



SPRINGTIME FISHING. 

The spring day. the spring day, 

When blossoms ope around. 
When in the wood and on the hill 

Flowers decorate the ground : 
When down the brook the angler seeks 

The spangled, finny kind, 
And schoolboys climb the orchard tree 

The bluebird's nest to find ; 
And o'er the fields the sower casts 

The grain seeds all about. 
And in the furrow'd glebe is heard 

The plowman's cheery shout. 
Ah ! spring day, wide-blossoming spring day ! 

I love the dewy, bright spring day, 
You know where 'neath.the mill-dam-fall 

The yellow perch schools gleaming skim ; 
You know where, 'mid the lily-pads. 

The pickerel near the surface swim ; 
Then stand where weeping willows shake 

Their drooping tassels o'er the pool. 
And cast the silken braided line 

Amid the thickest of the school. 
And soon triumphant with the toil 

You homeward hasten with your spoil. 
The angler, too, of riper years 

Will seek the shores of sea-like Sound, 
Equipt with fine artistic gear. 

To seek the bass in depths profound. 
To cast his glittering lure to take 

The bluefish leaping from the brine. 
Or shapely weakfish of the seas, 

With humming reel and whistling line. 

45 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE FISHERMAN'S ILL LUCK. 

An angler casts his braided line 

Fast by a brooklet's grassy edge : 
Alas, his hook caught in a root, 

His line was tangled in the sedge. 
When it was free he cast again. 

Hopeful a spangled trout to snare, 
Alas, a worthless bull-pout came. 

Struggling, convulsive in the air. 
An angler by a crystal lake 

Sought eager for a black-bass prize ; 
Alas upon his hook impaled. 

A writhing sunfish meets his eyes! 
An angler by the river's bank. 

Whose golden willows cast a shade. 
Hoped there a salmon, large and bright. 

Would snatch the glittering lure displayed 
Alas, a humble pickerel 
His only prey for rod and reel ! 
An angler by Floridian stream. 

Zealously sought the tarpon king ; 
He cast his line with matchless skill. 

His reel did hum, his line did sing ; 
There came a dash, a mighty splash, 

He thought the kingly fish his game. 
Alas, 'twas channel-bass that came ! 
An angler by the ccean surf. 

Cast for a bluefish far his line. 
Or for a Spanish mackerel. 

Careering thro' the foamy brine : 
Alas, a dogfish rises there. 

The sole reward for skill and care : 
Or sculpin or the long-tail skate, 

Seize greedily his tempting bait ! 
In ripples of the breezy bay. 

He sought the weakfish for his creel ; 
Alack those darlings failed to bite. 

He only caught a slippery eel ! 



46 



HAUNTS CF WILD GAME. 



THE CATFISH {Primelotus Catus). 

Deep and tranquil the millpond lies, 

Dark where shaded by cloudy skies 

Yet glassy bright and crystal clear 

When sunshine gilds the atmosphere. 

By bushy bank and grassy shore 

Graceful the willow trees lean o'er. 

Loving their twinkling leaves to dip. 

Loving the cooling waves to sip : 

The splendid cardinal flowers illume 

Its borders with their scarlet bloom ; 

The water lilies on its breast 

Like fairy shallops at anchor rest. 

And there beneath their floating screen 

The pond fish wander and lurk unseen. 

And there in each free holiday 

The angling school boys seek their prey. 

The catfish, bullhead, horned pout. 

Love not the clear brook of the trout. 

But in the sluggish pond or lake 

Their homes in deep abysses make, 

And there in shadowy places hide. 

To snare the shiners as they glide. 

There school child comes with tackle rude. 

Invading their lone solitude. 

Best is their sport when evening's shade 

The sluggish current doth prevade. 

For then the eels and catfish bite, 

More eager in the glooms of night. 

In far Missouri's river tide 

The greedy " lady catfish " glide : 

Of heavy weight, symmetric frame. 

They sweep the channels for their game ; 

Then chub and roach and minnow fry 

Before those ravenous monsters fly. 

So swift in speed, so hard to kill. 

They task the angler's deftest skill. 

Defying in the channel's stress 

His vain endeavors at success. 



47 



HA'JNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FISHING IN A MAINE LAKE. 

Oh. let us float o'er this pellucid stream. 

Idling the hours of summer-time a'^ay, 

Let us forget all fashions of the world, 

Its cares, its fretful griefs, anxieties. 

Ambitions, 'pride, and selfish low desires. 

The greedy struggles of the rich for wealth. 

The slavish toil of poverty for bread. 

The arrogance of power, the hard fate 

Of men in squalid hut and cabins rude. 

And all the sordid passions of mankind. 

Onward in birch canoe, we listless float 

Now in the sunshine, now in shadows lost. 

"Where a great mountain casts its inky shade. 

And waves beneath seem fathomless. 

There is depressing sadness in the glooms 

That overspread these streams, and quick we ply 

The oar. to float in heaven's bright light again ; 

Toiling at paddle, soon the light canoe 

Speeds like an arrow, like a flitting bird 

With scarce a breaking ripple at the stern. 

Pausing, entranced we downward gaze. 

Deep in the wave — we note the floating cloud 

And the pure, blue etherial skies above 

Reflected, picturing a new heaven below. 

From a cliff summit, an o'erarching tree 

Leans o'er, its great inverted form to see, 

"Viewing its tops sink prone beneath. 

The flapping crows, the circling hawks that pass. 

Catch their swift wings reflected in the wave : 

And high, majestic on a dead tree branch 

An eagle sits observant of the scene ; 

A soaring fish-hawk skims across the wave 

Then drops his wings to seize the finny prey ; 

Zig-zag a kingfisher flies screaming past. 

And from the lake comes cry of whooping crane. 

And melancholy wail of lonely loon. 

All these the angler notes with dreamy sense. 

And then anon he takes the tapering rod. 

And casts the feathered lure with s' ilful hand, 

48 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



He takes tlie lordly salmon and the trout 

That free in watery abysses float. 

The fleeting hours are all too brief for him. 

So fitted with pleasing sights and pleasant sounds, 

So when the evening shades steal gradual round 

He turns reluctant to his leafy camp. 

IZAAK WALTON. 

Two centuries since thy form was seen 
By river bank and brooklet side, 
Where the swift Humber pours its wave 
And Dove and Derwent currents glide ; 
By full-brimmed Tweed and tranquil Rye 
Thou lov'st to cast the line and fly, 
Loving dark morn and showery day 
When dace and perch bit eagerly ; 
Where down the limpid brook the trout 
From whirling eddies spring and dash, 
Where grayling, carp and bream and pike 
O'er the swift currents brightly flash. 
Or where great salmon of the stream. 
Amid the foam-bells glide and gleam, 
Loving all charming sports that fill 
The angler's bosom with a thrill! 
All anglers of this distant land 
Love their dear Walton's famous name. 
Deep 'tis inscribed on every heart. 
That throbs responsive to thy fame ; 
Roamers in Adirondack woods. 
In Saranac who cast their hooks. 
The anglers of the grand Maine streams. 
Trout-fishers in Long Island brooks, 
Fishers in great St. Lawrence Gulf, 
Or by the Labrador's bleak coast. 
Do try for pike and muscalunge 
Where Northern lakes by gales are toss'd : 
The anglers of remotest West, 
Who take the pickerel and bass. 
All think of thee with loving heart. 
The father of the angling art. 

49 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



WALTON ON THE PLEASURES OF ANGLING. 

" Let me live tranquil," dear old Walton said, 

Reclined in shade of honeysuckle hedge ; 

In placid rest his present pastime o'er. 

On a green bank fast Dy the river's edge. 

How sweet the pastime of the angler's art ! 

Rejoicing in past hours not idly spent ; 

After the anxious toils of busy life 

Happy the task and perfect the content. 

It is a cheerer of the spirits dull. 

Solace in sadness and of troubled mind ; 

It calms the passions as it soothes the soul. 

Dispelling ills that agitate mankind : 

Begets sweet moods of patience and of peace 

In those that practice this supremest art : 

Teaches the virtues of humility, 

And all the blessings that delight the heart. 

" Let me live tranquil " by the grassy brink 

Of Trent or Avon, happy in my soul. 

And watch my angle in the eddies play. 

Or where in deeps the sluggish currents roll. 

Sitting at rest 1 view the wondrous scenes 

Of nature 'round me bounteous display'd, 

At morning's blush, in evening's dim approach. 

When twilight glimmerings blend with dusky shade. 

All the deep groves make music in the leaves. 

Their flutterings fill with whisperings the air ; 

The birds attune their liquid melodies. 

And charm each soul disturb'd by earthly care. 

Soft, pleasing fancies fill my soul entranc'd. 

As I the woodlands and the waters view : 

The grassy pastures and the meadows green. 

Thick-sown with daisies and the violets blue. 

I note the streams careering to the sea. 

The rivulets brown, the brooks with sparkling face. 

And see the silver-scal'd fish disport, 

Whirling in schools, swift-darting in the race. 

And while 1 view these charms of waves and air. 

These wonders of the great Creator's hand. 

My soul forsakes this sublunary sphere 

5^5 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



To soar o'er upper skies to heavenly land. 
Dear, loving angler! though two hundred years 
Have strewn the dust above thy earthly frame. 
Yet memories of thy faultless life abide, 
And in the angler's heart survives thy fame ; 
Garlands of love around thee we entwine. 
Undying wreaths affectionate we bring: 
Remembrance of thy pure, unruffled life 
Eternally to angler's mind will cling ! 



IZAAC WALTON'S '•COMPLETE ANGLER'S" 
RETREAT. 

It was a quiet old inn of ancient times. 
With faded sign-board swinging at the door. 
With ivies and rare wisterias cover'd o'er: 
Sweet-smelling fields encircled it about. 
An humble garden rich with shrubs and flowers. 
An apple orchard drooping with its fruit, 
Lilacs and rosebush weaving a green bower : 
A gray old church, embower'd in aged trees. 
Unprais'd its ivied tower and belfry near : 
While here and there a moss-roof'd cottage stood 
Embrown'd by suns and rains of many a year. 
Hard by a river wound its tranquil course. 
Reflecting from its face o'er-bending trees. 
Fill'd with gay songsters of the earth and air. 
That trill'd forever their sweet melodies : 
A rustic bridge the narrow river spann'd, 
A time-stain'd mill revolved its dripping wheel : 
Green, grassy meadows stretch'd their billowy 

space 
Till lost in distance, far as eye might steal : 
A peaceful spot, where passions of the world. 
Its stormy strifes, anxieties and cares, 
Might ne'er disturb the quiet of the mind. 
To fill with anguish those sojourning there. 
Yes, by this placid river sweeping past. 
And 'neath the shadows of those ancient trees. 



5' 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Lull'd by the liquid anthems of the birds, 
The robin's chirp, the blackbird's harmonies. 
Dear Walton ever had supreme delight, 
A guest thrice welcome into Nature's round. 
In Nature's music no discordant chord 
Jars on the senses with disturbing sound. 
Her beauteous face a smile forever wears 
To fill the soul with peace, unvex'd with cares. 
There in the trellised arbor of the place. 
The angler sat in meditative mood. 
Sooth'd by the gentle murmur of the stream, 
Sooth'd by the whisper'd voices of the wood, 
When clouded skies a dusky shadow throw 
Athwart the winding reaches of the tide. 
Casting an inky blackness o'er the deeps. 
Or where the rippling eddies whirling glide. 
He stood with pliant rod and tackle fine. 
And deftly cast the gry, illusive fly. 
Took leaping trout and sable-armor'd bass. 
Or pickerel where amid the pads they lie. 
And so the days slip pleasantly away. 
The rosy mornings and the evenings gray. 
Each moment precious, and each hour a joy, 
Each sight a bliss, each sound a choral hymn ! 



WALTON'S CONVERSE WITH AN ANGLER. 

Dear angler, musing by this placid stream. 

List to the thoughts that have posess'd my soul. 

That you may join with me in thankfulness 

For all the blessings that have crown'd our lives : 

Consider the calamities we have 'scap'd : 

Each misery we miss is mercy new. 

Others have met with most disastrous woes. 

With broken limb or sickness unto death ; 

But we've been free from fatal miseries 

That vex mankmd— so let us thankful be ! 

Nay, from accusing conscience we've been free, 

Then heaven be praised for such protecting grace ! 

52 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Ah ! there be those of rich domains possess'd. 

Who'd gladly give their opulence of gold, 

Healthful and cheerful like ourselves to be, 

Who, having little of this world's estates, 

Have sung, rejoic'd and angled by the streams. 

Yes, there be those of grasping, miserly soul 

Who think that wealth true happiness confers. 

Yet spare us, heaven, from poverty and want. 

So we may be with competence content. 

Let none repine, or envy men of wealth, 

For cares that are the keys of hoarded gold 

So heavy hang at girdle of the rich. 

They crush with heavy weight their burden'd lives. 

Rich men too oft are vex'd with cares, to keep 

The boundless wealth, dishonorably got. 

So thankful be for competence and health ! 

Hail to the jocund Spring, when orchards bloom. 

Clematis, honeysuckles, white and pink. 

Pour cataracts of blossoms far and wide : 

When aureate light swims o'er the valleys green. 

Mosses and lichens everywhere upspring. 

Daisies and buttercups the rivulets fringe. 

And the wild roses' crimson petals ope ; 

When new-born grasses spread a verdurous screen : 

Then from the banks where sweep the currents by 

We'll cast the silken line and painted fly. 

Welcome, pure thoughts, and welcome, budding 

groves. 
The springing grass, the spicy, opening buds ; 
Welcome, the tuneful birds that chant their hymns 
Perch'd on the thickets, fluttering o'er each spray ; 
Welcome, sweet Peace, that in these woodland-dells 
Dwells where no hateful passions may invade ; 
Welcome, each winding brook of crystal flow, 
In whose smooth mirror shine reflected skies : 
In whose calm deeps or ruffled eddies glide 
The silvery fishes darting thro" the tide ; 
For here is angler's paradise supreme. 
The flowing river, the transparent stream. 

53 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE TWIN FATHERS. 

Izaak Walton, Father of British Anglers. 
Seth Green, P'alher of American I' i^hers. 

Musing, dear Walton, on thy tranquil life. 

The parent angler of the lake and stream. 

Father of anglers in thy native land. 

I conjure up thy form in fancy's dream. 

Long musing still another gracious Sire, 

Our own Seth Green, thrills all my heart with pride; 

Who lov'd and taught the angler's gentle art, 

Sought to replenish each depleted tide. 

But now his kindly bosom throbs no more. 

His silver'd brow 'neath mossy marbles prest. 

Beyond the unknown river he hath pass'd. 

Wafted to regions of eternal rest ! 

We grace thy bust with bright, memorial crown. 

Perennial laurel, emblem of thy fame. 

And on the altar of our loving heart. 

Inscribe in memory thy beloved name. 

Lover of Nature — ever thou did'st find. 

Beauties that all the natural world might boast. 

In azure skies, in woods in mountains grand, 

In valley-streams, in surges of the coast. 

No eye more true to mark swift-flying bird. 

No hand more firm the volleying shot to pour. 

No skill more perfect with the tapering rod. 

By sparkling brooklet or by ocean shore. 

In all the brotherhood of Angling Art 

How deep the sorrow that thou should'st depart! 

Belove'd Walton ! Though two hundred years 

Have cast their ashes o'er thy place of rest, 

Still thy fond children in profoundest love. 

Cherish the name that is supremely blest. 

Pure thy career, with tranquil pleasures crown'd. 

Happy thy life in peaceful pastimes spent, 

By full-brimm'd Tweed, or rushing Derwent's tide. 

By famous Avon, or by lovely Trent. 

No earthly passions vexed thy thoughtful mind. 

No love of gain, no thirst for sordid gold. 

No love for gilded fashions of the world. 

54 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



No love for strifes or warlike flags unroH'd : 

Thy sole enchantments were the sparkling stream, 

The boiling eddies, where the salmon leap'd, 

The wimpling brooks where trout and graylings 

glanc'd : 
Rich harvest of the waves, by anglers reap'd. 
Content withal such innocent delights. 
With conscience pure, and love of all mankind. 
Thou had'st no evil passions to subdue ; 
'Mid pains and sorrows never yet repin'd. 
So like transparent streams thy earthly years, 
Slip by unvex'd by rough, tempestuous tides, 
Each passing year unruffled as the flow 
Where calm and smooth the mirror d river glides. 
So. as the glorious sun at close of day 
Sinks in the west, thy life did fade away. 




55 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



PROLIFIC STREAMS OF AFRICA. 

In the dark continent of Afric land 

Where Stanley. Speke and Livingstone explor'd. 

Where ranged wild game, the quagga, eland race, 

The panther shriek'd, the tawny lion roar'd. 

The daring hunters found supremest sport 

Slaying the giraffe and the elephant, 

Tracking in swamps the hippopotami, 

And the rhinoceros in his dismal haunt. 

Many the perils these stout heroes met — 

Baker and Cumming, and brave Du Chaillu — 

Martyrs to science and to Christian cause. 

Who well have pictur'd all the scenes they knew ; 

Their deadly conflicts and their triumphs grand, 

With the swart natives ravaging the land. 

Yet came no angler to explore the depths 

Of foaming river and transparent stream ; 

To lure the finny treasures that they held ; 

The hues, the shapes that thro' the waters gleam — 

Brave Stanley, Livingstone, explored thore wastes 

Of waters — Nyanza, Tanderagas' deeps ; 

Sailed the broad Congo, Combe and the Nile, 

Sangora's lake, and where the Timlah sleeps ; 

Yet left no record of the finny tribes. 

Great schools to civilized man unknown ; 

No angling rod they bore — the rifle-gun 

Their sole companion in that torrid zone. 

Yet, with coming years, when Christian creed 

With rule intrepid brightens all the land ; 

When Arab slavers cease their fiendish work. 

And villas rise where reed-thatch'd cabins stand ; 

When white-wing'd squadrons sweep the ocean 

shore. 
And steaming trains thro' trackless forests glide, 
And forest life is safe by mount and stream : 
As commerce spreads its influence far and wide, 
Then will the angler reap a fresh delight 
By flowing river and the torrent-'all. 
Seeking new victims to his rod and reel, 
New fields of pastime open unto all. 



56 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE MEADOW AND WOODLAND STREAMS. 

It is a lovely, transparent stream. 

Rippling and flashing with sudden gleam. 

Where it flows thro' a wide, unshadowed space. 

Fair as a maiden's smiling face ; 

For here no thickets or tangled hedge. 

No drooping grove at the water's edge. 

May cast a vapory, dusky shade 

On wheeling current or white cascade. 

So here at the meadow's open bank. 

Where reeds and rushes spring green and rank. 

The angler comes with tackle fine. 

To spin the reel and cast the line : 

Where ripples sparkle and eddies sport. 

There in their gambols gleam the trout ; 

They dive in deeps, the surface skim. 

O'er sandy shallows they leap and swim 

And sunfish glitter with shiny sides. 

The yellow perch with swiftness glides. 

And where the lily-pads spread a sheet. 

The pickerel lurk in dim retreat. 

So here in this calm, pellucid stream, 

The angler's ecstasy is supreme. 

But where a river runs dark and deep. 

Great hemlock trees around it sweep ; 

The gloomy spruce and sombre pine. 

With pendant branches the borders line. 

And ever a solemn spell doth brood 

O'er inky waters and silent wood. 

When twilight glimmers, weird and dim. 

And mystical shapes in ether swim. 

'Tis said a spectre, tall and grim, 

Haunteth an old mill by the stream. 

It enters that old mi'l door, 

At dusty window it seems to kneel ; 

It leans o'er the dripping water-wheel. 

It wrings its hands, and sad and slow. 

With soundless footsteps, to and fro. 

It paces o'er the floor. 
Now. oft at rising of a gale. 



57 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



A shrill, mysterious, solemn wail 

Swells in that lonely place ; 
Then sudden that phantom plunges down 
Where whirls the river's current brown — 
Plunges and leaves no trace. 



THE MASCALONGE AND THE PICKEREL. 

'Mid inlets, wood-embowered and green. 

Like emeralds dropped in waves of blue. 
The angler floats at break of day. 

Quick paddling there his birch canoe. 
There, high on drooping boughs entwin'd, 

The grapevine weaves its leafy wealth, 
Or drops its purple clusters down 

To dip in waves that flow beneath. 
The red-bird from the topmost branch 

Outpours its mellow burst of song ; 
The larks and beach birds of the shore 

Their soft, harmonious trills prolong. 
And when the evening shades prevail 

The whippoorwill repeats its tale. 
There is the fisher's Paradise, 

A dream-like, Eden-like retreat. 
'Mid balmy perfumes of the air, 

And wildflowers springing at his feet. 
The floating fish, gay-hued are seen 

Slow-drifting, now 'mid lilypads. 
Now in unfathom'd depths serene. 

There Esox Luciodes dwells. 
With bristling teeth and open jaw. 

Insatiate, savage, swift to seize 
The prey that fills his hungry maw. 

And here the angler's utmost skill 

Is tasked the struggling fish to kill. 
To land him. gasping and supine. 
With whirling wheel and swinging line. 
Far where Ontario's waters chafe 

The rocky bluffs that line the shore. 

5« 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Where the Canadian meadows stretch 

And crystal rivulets outpour. 
The savage mascalonge doth roam. 

No rival in his blue domain, 
No rebel to disturb his home. 

E'en as the lion of the waste 
Appals the desert with his tread. 

And all the lesser creatures fly 
At menace of his shaggy head. 

So doth the ruthless mascalonge 
Despotic rule the watery way. 

So the weak fishes of the deep 
Affrighted vanish from his sway. 
Where the broad Huron rolls its wave. 
And where Superior, thro" the Strait 
Of Mackinaw, hurls out its tide. 
The mascalonges swiftly glance 

Thro' fathomless, far-rolling deeps. 
Far thro' the limitless expanse. 

Far as the boiling current sweepr. 




59 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE LUMINOUS BAIT. 

Dear angler, equipt with rod and reel. 

The luminous bait, the ample creel. 

Haste forth to the rushing river-tide. 

Where ripples glitter, where fishes glide. 

And cast with skill your luring fly 

When the light of day illumes the sky ; 

Ah. then there's a new delight for him, 

A pastime fresh as day grows dim. 

For then, as denser the shadows grow. 

The luminous bait a gleam will throw, 

Illuming the waters dimmed by night, 

And reveal to fishes allurements bright : 

Then gay phosphorescence will flush the stream. 

Disclosing the depths with sudden gleam. 

And then you may reap, in evening tide. 

A harvest of fish in day denied. 

Since years when old Walton cast the bait. 

In tranquil Dove, or Derwent's tide. 

Some new allurements the angler's art 

Receives by brooklet and riverside ; 

The perfect Orvis whirling reel 

Will cheer the angler with rich prize. 

And bring abundance to willow-creel. 

Where grand St. Lawrence currents sweep 

Men take the salmon in their deep, 

The pike, the pickerel of the lake. 

The blackfish and the trout they take ; 

But when the evening shades prevail. 

And darkness gathers o'er mount and va'e, 

'Tis then the shining, luminous spoon. 

Will take the fish beneath the moon ! 

So when the brilliant Summer days 

Are sunbright with the noonday rays. 

The luminous, gay-colored bait 

Attracts the fishes to their fate ; 

Though then the waters are blurred with stain. 

And other lures may tempt in vain, 

This wondrous, shining luminous lure. 

The hungry victims will secure ; 

They take them either when day is dim. 

Or when fresh sunbright waves they swim. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



TROUTING. 

The season is ended — the rod and the reel 

With affectionate care are hung on the wall, 
Yet still that symmetrical rod we may see 

And its joys and successes recall ; 
As we gaze the woodlands of June-time revive. 

They are fluttering with all their green leaves. 
They are glad with the songs of the musical birds. 

They are bright with the light the umbrage re- 
ceives ; 
The orchards we pass are resplendent with bloom. 

The meadows we tread are with flowerets inlaid. 
The brooks are embroidered with emerald grass 

As they leap into light or darken in shade ; 
We see in each ripple the flash of a fin, 

And where minnows turn up their silvery sides 
We see the swift dart of speckel'd brook trout ; 

Like an arrow among them he glides. 
Ah. there's a dim pool beneath the mill-wheel 

Where the depths are ne'er churned into foam. 
And there, 'neath the roots of an old oak tree, 

I know the big trout have a home ; 
Then cautious thy step and steady thy hand. 

Let thy shadow fall not o'er the wave. 
Let thy line circle o'er with delicate cast 

And with a brief struggle the captive you save. 
There's a brook that flows down at the skirt of the 
hill. 

It laughs and it prattles and it chatters with glee : 
It sweeps over pebbles, it glides over sands. 

It kisses the roots of sapling and tree : 
Now is lost in the bushes that tangle the shore. 

Now check'd by the grasses that border its sides. 
Now again it leaps forth where no tree-shade may 
fall. 

As sparkling and riotous onward it glides ; 
And there may the angler's allurement of flies 

Sweep the brook and secure the coveted prize. 
There's a creek that flows up from the blue, salty 
bay, 



6i 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



It winds thro' the sedges and marshes at will : 
The plovers and beach-birds skim o'er its face. ' 

And the sickel-curlews whistle wildly and shrill. 
There upward it runs to freshen its tides 

Where Massapeaque Lake to the seaf'oweth down, 
And there swim the sea-trout with silvery dyes, 

As brilliant as gems in an emperor's crown ; 
And there with my friend, Genio Scott, in past year, 

In the long-vanish'd year we gather'd the prize. 
The treasures, the pleasures, to angler so dear. 



WHEN AND WHERE TO ANGLE FOR TROUT. 

Dear angler, haste to your favorite stream 
That flows transparent, with sudden gleam. 
In open space where the blue of sky 
Looks down as gentle as maiden's eye. 
Where the rippling eddies whirling bright 
Sweep over sand-bars, crystal white. 
For there in the wheeling, sparkling tide, 
The spotted trout-schools like meteors glide. 
Or seek some shaded nook serene 
Where alder thickets o'er it lean. 
And the willows droop to see below 
Their imag'd forms in the waters' flow. 
For there in the tranquil, slumberous deeps 
The springing trout o'er the surface leaps. 
Pursuing the silvery minnow race 
Or insects, skimming th" unruffled space: 
So, there cast far your feather'd lure. 
The wilful victims to secure. 
Or seek some upland's secluded shore. 
Where riotous rivulets downwards pour, 
Streamlets sprung from crystaline foui t 
Far up some rocky, snow-clad mount ; 
Laughing, rejoicing, as quick they leap. 
Joyous, and active as forth they sweep. 
For in each toss of the creamy foam 
They find an ice-cold, grateful home ; 

62 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



And there the angler's delusive flies 
Entice, entrap the speckled prize. 
Or haste to some pond serene and large 
By lilies fring'd at the grassy marge. 
Where red wild-roses stoop to lave 
There cluster'd garlands in the wave. 
For there in shadow'd and tideless space 
The lurking trouts have hiding place, 
There eager they seize the tempting bait- 
And soon they fill the creel with weight. 



THE TROUT BROOK. 

Under the willow's twisted root. 
With hollow murmur, with suddon shoot 
Thro' shady thicket and grassy nook, 
Floweth the running brook; 
Now in shadowy gloom it runs. 
Where never shine the summer suns : 
Now it leaps into light again. 
Singing ever a joyous strain : 
Rippling, twinkling, glittering ever, 
Down to the brimming river. 
Now in a calm lagoon it sleeps. 
Lazily, drowsily on it creeps. 

Scarcely seen to flow : 
There the water lilies floal 
Each one like a silver boat. 

There the cresses grow ; 
By the water on mossy stone 
Or slippery log, with weeds o'ergrown. 

The spotted turtles lie. 
Or sudden slip in the pool of glass, 
Affrighted when the cattle pass. 

Or steps the intruder by. 
Yet best 1 love the noisy stream 
When it bursts with cheerful laugh and gleam 
Into open land, beneath the beam 

Of bright, unclouded day : 

63 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Twinkling, glimmering in the sun. 
As if rejoicing its race to run 

On its merry way ; 
Over the sands of golden glow, 
Over pebbles white as snow, 

It tumbles and it glides. 
There swim the perch and the dusky bream. 
The speckled trout, like meteors gleam. 
Shooting across the limpid stream, 

t lashing their purple sides ; 
An 1 there the angler comes to play 
With silken line the lurking prey. 
The school-child hither hastes to glean 
The water cresses crisp and green. 
Or comes the bard to ponder o'er 
The trar.quil beauties of the shore. 



TROUT BROOK GLEN. 

1 love this bowery spot, 
With leafage multitudinous o'er head. 

A pastoral, fairy grot. 
Where fabled woodnymphs might delight to tread ; 

Where ever is sweet sound 
Of brooks descending from the hills. 

Thro' moor and meadow ground ; 
Gurgling and laughing with delicious trills. 
Now shooting o'er smooth passages of sand. 
Now gushing thro ravines on either hand. 

To cast their tributes in the limpid pool 

So shadowed and so cool ! 

Athwart the water's face. 
Branch-shadows and leaf-shadows love to sleep. 
Where beams of sunlight thro' the umbrage deep 

Illumine all the place. 
Bright shafts of light that thro' the foliage gleam 
To gild the embrowned surface of the stream. 

in this enchanting grot 
i lingering forget the outside world of life, 

64 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



All griefs, anxieties forgot 
Forgot all tumult and the endless strife, 
As 1 but list the murmur of the stream 

And sighing of the breeze, 
Noting the sifting, evanescent gleam 

Of sunlight thro' the trees : 
I hear the mellow hymns of singing birds. 
The hum of bees, the lowing of the herds. 

And all the lulling sound 

Of nature in repose profound 
But sweetest to my ear the sudden splash. 
Where the swift trout across the ripples dash. 
And pleasing then the glitter of their sides 
As each sharp fin the wave divides. 
Where o'er the crystal pool they leap 
To seize the hovering insects in their sweep. 



A TROUT BROOK AND A PLEASANT SPOT 
IN THE WOODS. 

It was a lovely haunt, set like a gem 

In the dim shadows of o'erhanging groves, 

A sylvan Eden where 'twas sweet to muse. 

Forgetting all vexations of the world. 

Here mosses soft lay like a carpet spread. 

In this green sanctuary of the dell, 

Where ivies and the pink arbutus grew, 

Embroidering the banks with tendrils thick. 

And thick inlaid with purple violets. 

Wild honeysuckles perfum'dall the air. 

With hazel-bush and larch-trees canopied ; 

And grape-vines threw their garlands prodigal 

Forming an arbor, dense with grateful shade — 

Dense with their flowery tufts and pendant leaves. 

Sweet brier-roses, flowering in the shade. 

Wove a dim canopy of buds and blooms, 

O'erspreading the low hillocks of the moss. 

While musing here, how natural came the thought 

Of those wild tribes that once had here a home ! 

65 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Here a bright brook ran thro' the sylvan shade, 

Rippling, rejoicing on its bubbling way : 

Here boiling o'er the pebbles of the strand, 

That paved with crystal stones the brooklet floor 

Anon with sluggish course it wound its way. 

Slipping unwrinkled o'er the yellow sand. 

It was a sweet, calm paradise that lured 

The patient angler, for his pastime sport : 

So. here he cast the line and feathered lure. 

That skimmed the eddies or the placid deeps. 

Enticing the bright trout to seize the bait. 

Snaring the struggling victims to their fate! 

Such a rare Eden for the angler's art 

Would sure have won old Walton's gentle heart. 



SALMON FISHING.— CHARLES hallock. 

veteran angler ! ancient friend. 

Again thy graphic page displays 
The wonders of the natural world. 

The grandeur of the forest-ways. 
The sylvan glories of the wood. 

Where drooping branches hem the stream 
Those sweeping currents, shaded now. 

Now flashing with a sudden gleam. 
'Tis his delight to track the brook 

That laughs and prattles down the mead. 
To lure the spangled, springing trout. 

Or pickerel darting from the weed ; 
He loves, too, by the wood-girt lake. 

For dusky bass to cast the line. 
Or by salt billows of the shore, 

To whirl the bluefish from the brine ; 
Or far out in profoundest deeps. 

To drop for sea-bass baited lure. 
Or by thy green shores, Florida. 

The channel-bass prize to secure ; 
Or sturdily the great rod swing 
For tarpon, the fam'd Silver King! 

66 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



But nobler, regal trophy crowns. 

With laurel wreath the angler's brow, 
Who swings the rod and casts the line. 

Where swift Canadian rivers flow ; 
Where royal Restigouche pours out. 

Its grand, majestic sweep of tide : 
Or where Saint Lawrence Gulf receives 

Its tributaries, deep and wide. 
Or where Aroostook dashes free 

To the tide-waters of the sea : 
Or where New Brunswick like a gem 

Soars upward from the encircling brine 
Studded with sparkling brooks and lakes, 

Encrown'd by forest-wilds of pine ; 
The angler finds a joy supreme. 

By boiling river, rushing stream. 
By wind-swept cliff and jutting bar. 

Where circling eddies swirl and wheel, 
He sees the mighty salmon spring. 

He hears the music of his reel: 
He contemplates with strange delight. 

Those rivers riotous and deep ; 
Some dash to sea in headlong way. 

Some sinuous loiter as they sweep. 
Some upward leap in creamy foam. 

Some plunge and tumble in abyss. 
Some flow past with a murmuring note. 

Or lion's roar, or serpent's hiss ; 
But ever 'mid the spume and spray. 
The lordly salmon speed their way ! 



" One of the charms of angling is 
that it presents an endless ^eld for 
argument, speculation, and experi- 
ment." 

— T. E. Pritt. 



67 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SALMON WATERS. 



Grand are those Northern streams where salmon 

schools 
Leap in abysses of the currents bright. 
Broad streams whose wilful and capricious moods 
Give to the angler a supreme delight. 
There fish are full of energy and life 
Where there is sparkling, brilliancy of foam. 
But where in waters dead repose the waves : 
The fish are sluggish in their lifeless home. 
Some streams dash swiftly without break to sea, 
Some creep in slow and sinuous career. 
Some have great depth and breadth in headlong 

sweep, 
Some in pent up channels madly steer. 
Glorious are they hemmed with granite rocks, 
Resplendent with the ever flashing spray ; 
Encircled close by vivid evergreens, 
Sombre in shadows of the cloudy day ; 
Yet bright and sparkling in the clear sunbeam. 
Delighting all that angle in the stream. 
Rippled by gusty winds of wanton sweep. 
Or swirl of leaping salmon of the deep. 

In long past years those unsought rivers ran. 
Known to but few as they incessant flow'd. 
Their forest glooms unscored by swamper's ax, 
Their haunts sequestered showed no loggers' road ; 
But now that wilderness by steam is cross'd. 
The calm and romance of the woods are lost. 
The anglers oft their other triumphs boast. 
Slaying the mighty tarpon of the deep, 
Gaffing the striptd-bass from ocean rocks, 
Thinning the trout-schools as they flashing leap. 
But yet no fish is of the salmon peer. 
In its wild haunts, its wonderful career. 
In some streams, spacious, frequent are the pools 
Glinting with pebbles, open to the light. 
Others are short, tumultuous in their flow. 
Checked by rough boulders in their arrowy flight. 

68 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Some are o'erhung with densest shade of woods. 
Whose branches cast a shadow o'er the wave ; 
Others slip past at base of barren cHffs, 
Whose rocky walls the rushing billows lave. 



SALMON POOLS. 

The salmon fishing in Canadian streams 
Is fair as that enjoyed on foreign shores. 
The scenery more majestic, streams more grand. 
And our great salmon of the noblest size. 
To pass o'er regions of St. Lawrence shores. 
Gives to the mind seclusion from the world. 
Here one can contemplate the soaring mounts. 
The majesty of broad, impetuous streams, 
The whirl of salmon, antics of the seals. 
And all the brilliancies of northern skies. 
The gorgeous wonder of the lunar bow, 
So the wide world no fairer scenes presents 
Than by the billows of Columbia's shores. 
In some streams frequent, ample are the tides. 
Open to sunlight, sown with pebbles bright. 
Others are short, tumultuous in their flow, 
Check'd by huge boulders in their foamy flight ; 
Many are dim with densest shades of woods. 
Whose branches cast broad shadows o'er the wave. 
While others rush by base of jutting cliffs. 
Whose rocky walls the angry waters lave. 
Grand are the Goodbout pools, tumultuous streams. 
Bright with the ever-glancing, leaping spray : 
Glorious are they in their varied scenes. 
Inclosed by groves of sombre evergreens. 
Lovely, these pools, when sparkling in the light, 
Entrancing in their perfect solitudes : 
Stirred only by the wind or salmon whirls. 
Or dimmed by floating cloud, or leafy woods ; 
Dotted by verdurous inlets that divide 
The flowing currents, the careering tides : 
Fair are their vistas, opening to the view. 
Forests, primeval, that encircling gird 
The boiling rapids with their yeasty foam, 
And stretch'd o'er all spreads heaven's celestial 
dome. 

69 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SALMON FISHING OF LABRADOR. 

By the wild Canadian shore, 
By the tandy Labrador, 
By the rocky Mingan isles 
And where Anticosti smiles, 
Countless are the salmon shoals. 
Leaping where the salt tide rolls. 

Rivers, streams, of crystal clearness 
Pour thro' that extended strand 

From thy river mouth, St. Lawrence, 
To the coast of Newfoundland : 

Far as where the Belle-isie Strait 

Opens to the seas its gate. 

Cold those rivers as the fountains 
From the wilderness that flow ; 

Cold as torrents of the mountains. 
Gelid with the ice and snow. 

There, amid the salt abysses 

Or the river's Springtime tide. 

Gleaming, flashing, leaping, diving. 

Shoals of noble salmon glide. 

Where the river of St. John 

Mingles with the ocean surf. 
Brown with weedy rocks and sand drifts. 

Green with bordering velvet turf. 
There the angler with his tackle, 

When the July suns are high. 
From the dawning to the twilight. 

Hastes to angle with the fly. 

Near thy alder-skirted border. 

Where the Rattling Run doth twine. 
He erects his hut of branches. 

Branch of hemlock and of pine ; 
Floors it with the cedar saplings. 

Fragrant, soft as couch of kings ; 
There enjoying forest pastimes 

And the sleep that labor brings. 



70 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SALMON FISHING IN THE FAR WEST. 

In estuaries broad, by rapid fluvial stream. 

We pause to note the eddies as they swirl and 

gleam. 
We note the sparkling billows where swift the sea- 
trout glide 
Now plunging in the deep now shooting o'er the 

tide. 
We note the black seals darting, disporting in the 

flood. 
The gray geese with their goslings and wild ducks 

with their brood. 
Anon, see the brown bear fast rushing thro' the fir, 
Or flocks of speckled partridge as o'er the woods 

they whir. 
Then note the noble salmon, crown'd monarch of 

the tides 
Flashing in purple splendor, with all their burnished 

sides. 
Suprem.e in ctately figure, supreme in matchless 

hue. 
N'o lovelier fish swims river or cleaves the ocean 

blue. 
That silver king, the tarpon, of Florida the boast, 
Or speckled bass, bright-armor'd, the glory of the 

coast. 
May all claim wondrous beauty, in salt tides of the 

sea, 
But never may they rival, O Royal Salmon, thee ! 
There where a river pours its cataract adown 
Subsiding in a pool, all fring'd with boulders brown. 
On this peninsula. O Angler, ta! e now your stand 
And swing the rod and cast the line with your 

strong hand ; 
So instant in the deep leaps a salmon to the lure 
And quick your hook is fast, and the struggling fish 

secure. 
He plunges in affright, he shoots across the stream. 
He leaps in air with frantic rage, see how his bright 

sides g'eam ! 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Then vanishing fronn sight, he sulks in caverns dim. 

But yields at last, a conquest, that may no longer 
swim. 

Far out in western world, where monarch moun- 
tains soar. 

While torrents from their summits and rugged rav- 
ines pour, 

The broad Columbia river, majestic with its tides 

Through grassy reach of vales and wildernesses 
glides. 

'Tis there the noble salmon in countless numbers 
pass. 

Thro' eddies most tumultuous, or currents clear 
as glass. 



SALMON FISHING IN GOODBOUT RIVER, 
CANADA. 

The kingly salmon ! what more beautiful. 

Than his symmetric shape, so fearless fair ! 

His regal garniture of silvery scales 

And flashing eyes resplendent with their light. 

No marvel that they frolic, leap with joy. 

Disporting in this cool pellucid stream. 

Escaping sure from ocean enemies. 

Years since were halcyon angling days. 

Ere hatching haunts and high leas'd streams were 

known ; 
Forests were then unscored by swamper's axe, 
No logging roads invaded regions lone ; 
No poachers then the forest depths explored 
And only birch canoes on waves were toss'd. 
No steam craft sought the unknown wilderness. 
But now the wilds by railroad trains are cross'd ; 
And so the wild romance of woods is o'er. 
And stranger crowds those recesses explore 
And streams are free to angling rods no more. 
We can respect the expert who in his boat 
The mighty tarpon of the gulf may take. 
Or gaff the strip'd bass from the ocean rock. 

72 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Or slay the muscalonge in Northern lake ; 

Yet no fish with the salmon may compare, 

No other pastime yields such noble sports. 

For other sports lack mystery of woods. 

Lack the rare views of nature's grand resorts. 

The tarpon is but smasher of the line, 

Full of rough vigor and of brutal force ; 

The strip'd bass fisher sees but sea and surf. 

He that seeks salmon at the river source 

Finds endless views 'mid each surrounding scene 

By shores encircled by the woodlands green. 

Their play on temper of the stream depends. 

For where is foam and dash, is energy ; 

In the dead water, fish move sluggishly ; 

In rapid stream they frolic far and free. 

Some streams have depth and breadth and mighty 

sweep. 
Others are pent up, narrow and confined. 
Some have broad pools with brightly pebbled 

floor. 
Others have small pools with big boulders lined. 
Some are o'erhung with thicket and with tree. 
Some flow 'neath shadows of the precipice. 
So there's no end to phases of the stream. 
No end to angler's skill and artifice ! 



THE STREAM OF OUR YOUTH. 

Stream of our childhood ! 'Twas but a little brook 
Running thro' reeds with light-hearted laughter; 
Seeming far lovelier than river grand, 
River of deep vales and bowery woods. 
There, rain or shine, our holidays were spent. 
And well did I know each shallow that it held. 
Each darkling pool where lurked the spotted trout. 
And where 'neath lily pads the pickerel lay. 
And where the round roaches and shiners had haunt. 
Its banks with the beech and hickories were lin'd. 
With hemlock and ash and spic'd sassafras. 
And then, anon, thro' meadows it crept, 

73 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Thro' grape-vine tangles devious it wound, 

And blackberry jungles, until it was lost 

in sombre forests of cedar and pine. 

There sweet birds of song piped tuneful lays ; 

The robin red-breast with prodigal notes. 

The upland plovers whistled o'er its banks. 

The blackbirds pour'd out their souls in song. 

The kingfisher utter'd its lonely cry. 

Bluebird and oriole did hymns unite ; 

An' all sweet sounds and fair sights combin'd 

To charm the angler's senses with delight. 

There is no stream, however fair it be. 

Lovely with sandy reach and pebbled shore. 

Lovely with calm bay, encircled with woods. 

Where in our later years we made our haunt. 

That might compare with this enchanted stream 

That first our early childhood knew and loved. 

The river is an emblem of our lives ; 

fn youth's sweet time we drift thro' pastoral scenes. 

Floating by sunny valleys and green meads. 

To view on shores soft scenes of rural life. 

Whose flower-enaml'd borders ever glow 

With beauty, and where youth and pleasure meet 

And fill with dance and song the blissful hours. 

Then into wild and passionate life we pass. 

When vigcrous manhood holds its s:ormy way : 

Then, as day ends and life draws near its close. 

We pass once more through softer, kindlier scenes ; 

Rough scenes of former life left far behind ; 

Life's turbid waters and life's dangerous reefs 

Pass'd well safely by — and :'ll is peace again. 



"Some times I go a-fishing and shoot- 
ing, and even then I carry a note book, 
that, if I lose game, I may at least bring 
home some ot my pleasant thoughts." 

— PUNV, 



74 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE POETRY OF ANGLING. 

Ah ! who can number the bewildering joys 

That cluster round the angler's pursuit ! 
He follows his rare sport 'mid lovely scenes, 

Where nature spreads her foliage and her fruit ; 
He hastens forth when first the pearly light 

Of morning flushes all the fields of air ; 
When first in hazy mounts and tufted wood 

The sunbeams glitter with effulgence rare. 
When all the valleys with their flowery plain, 

When all the forests with their foliage green, 
Twinkle with dew drops, that the rosy beam 

Kindles like diamonds on the brow of queen. 
The angler tracks the windings of the stream. 

He knows its leapings in the white cascade. 
Knows how it bubbles in the rapids swift. 

How it sleeps tranquil in each woodland shade ; 
Knows all the solitudes of its green sides. 

Knows all the glitter of its shallow tides. 
He can greet Nature in her spring-time dress. 

When she trips gleeful thro' the blooming grove ; 
He can salute in her deep wilderness. 

As thro' her flowery haunts he loves to rove ; 
There where the eddies o'er the pebbles spout. 

He casts his humming line and luring flies. 
'Mid the swift ripples takes the springing trout 

Or salmon, where o'er river tides they rise. 
Then in brown autumn-time he seeks the scene 

Where the salt billows chafe the ocean shore. 
And from a rock engarlanded with weed. 

Casts the long line where angry currents pour ; 
Takes the strip'd bass in his convulsive leaps. 

Or shapely bluefish swimming heedless by. 
Or weakfish glittering in the middle deeps, 

Or blackfish that in low abysses lie. 
In all these seasons of the rolling year. 

The angler moves amid enchanting scenes. 
Where wreaths of flowers on bush and tree are 
hugg. 

Ivies and woodbines twine their bowery greens, 

75 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Roses and lilies charm with rare perfume, 

Great orchards droop with wealth of golden 
globes, 
Daisies and clovers in the meadows bloom. 

And every floweret flaunts its color'd robes. 
Song birds salute him with the dawning light. 

The bobolink, robin and the minstrel thrush ; 
They chant their carols all the summer day. 

While chirps the whippoorwill in evening hush ; 
All the blithe sights of Nature cheer his eyes. 

All Nature's voices charm with glad surprise. 



REVISITING FISHING SCENES OF OLD. 

When 1 revisited my childhood's stream 
After long years, 1 saw a saddening change ; 
The beech leaves still were imaged o'er its space. 
The grassy banks were verdant as of yore, 
The vine still hung its fox-grape cluster there, 
The bubbling joy of boblink, from its nest. 
Still to my ear came sweetly as of old ; 
But the bright fish that glitter'd in the deeps. 
And all glad life that 'livened the green shores, 
Were sadly absent. Underneath the bridge. 
Where I so oft the silvery schools had watch 'd. 
No fish were seen. Now on the briery fence 
The English sparrow had usurp'd Bob White ; 
The pond was all unwrinkled by a fin, 
The turtles black that bask'd on mossy log 
Seem'd few and small, the water snakes had gone; 
The little crawfish shooting to and fro, 
The eels, the hair worms and pollywogs. 
That wriggled once in shallows and spring runs, 
The water beetles that in eddies whirl'd, 
Seem'd to have vanish'd from my childhood haunt ; 
For lapsing years had wrought a wasteful change ! 
Oh! old delights! when bobbing for lithe eels 
In dusky nights! when shone the transient lamps 
Of luminous fireflies o'er the clouded wave. 
While from -the darkling dome above came cries 

76 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Of nighthawk and the mournful hoot of owl. 
The whistle of the woodcock in the glooms, 
The hollow drum of partridge in the wood ; 
Then in the shades the heron of the night. 
Robed in gray plumes, would settle by my side : 
Yet other boon companionship was mine, 
When droning booms of bullfrog would arise 
And tinklings of the insect would resound. 
The old millpond held treasures in those days, 
And chief the pickerel 'mid the lilypads ; 
Then, oh ! what joy to draw the meshing seine 
And gather in the precious wealth it held ! 
No string of trout hung by the campfire blaze 
Look'd e'er so grand as sucker and the chub. 
The catfish, sunfish and the slippery eels. 
And snapping turtles, that those meshes held. 
The millrace held rare wonders in those days, 
When dropped my fish line thro' the sawmill floor ; 
There seem'd no costlier fishes in the world 
Than those that sported in that sawdust pool ! 



RESORTS OF THE ANGLER. 

The angler, ah ! what lovely scenes 

Surround him in his devious ways! 
The poet may but faintly sketch 

Th' elysian haunts through which he strays 
In vain the artist's mingled hues 
Would paint the landscape that he views. 
'Mid scenes of beauty lies his path, 

Following the river's winding sweeps; 
He sees it in the rapid's dash. 

In bold cascade he sees its leaps ; 
He knows its silent, dusky depths. 

Its shallows, pav'd with golden sand ; 
The bordering flowers delight his sense, 

And sedges rustling o'er the strand. 
The lark and robin sing to him. 

The bobolink and brown thrush trill ; 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



All feather'd tenants of the grove 

His ear with mellow greetings fill. 
He seeks in some lone wilderness 

Some lake that in calm beauty rests, 
Where oaks around its borders press. 

Waving their leafy, plumy crests. 
And when red autumn stains the year. 
In princely garments they uprear. 
Drooping above the limpid tide 
Their flaunting banners, yellow-dyed ; 
As wardens old. their vigils keep 
To guard an infant monarch's sleep. 
Then, too, his way is by the sea, 

Along the rock-engirdled coast. 
Where the curl'd billows leap in foam 

And surges o'er the rocks are tost, 
There, ever in the summer's prime. 

It is a pleasant haunt, 1 ween, 
When ocean beats its whisper'd chime. 

Soft murmuring in its sleep serene. 
Then winds are soft and waves are bright. 
And beach sands sparkle in the light. 
And the smooth, rounded, crested waves 
Roll in like turfy, rural graves. 
And flocks of sea mews skim the deep 
Or high in airy circles sweep. 
So here from some brown-weeded rock 

His eye beholds the vast expanse : 
He views with awe that world of waves. 

Whirling and sparkling in their dance ; 
Anon he casts the far-sent line 

To drag the bluefish to their doom, 
Or drops his tackle in the deeps 

For sea bass in abysmal gloom ; 
He sees the Spanish mackerel whirl 

In glittering antics o'er the wave. 
Or in some salty channel takes 

The mighty tarpon, swift and brave. 



73 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FLOWER-CROWNED FLORIDA. 

'Mid thy fair realms. O flower-crowned Florida! 

The angler finds his paradi'se of sport : 
Soft airs around him waft perennial sweets. 

And welcome him to each belov'd resort. 
The rare magnolias ope their flow'ry cones. 

The orange groves for him exhale perfumes. 
Each leaf and orchid and each frill of fern 

Thro' all the woodlands spread delicious blooms. 

Here in the river deeps, the channel tides, 

Hasten. O angler, with thy tackle fine ; 
Here cast the luring fly, the mullet bait. 

And rarest sport and rich reward be thine ! 
There tarpon, silver king, leaps high in air. 

Yet seeks to break thy barbed hook in vain; 
In vain he plunges, dashes o'er the wave. 

Then yields, exhausted, to thy steady strain. 
Amid the mangrove isles the black drum bask, 

The swift crevalle glide by grassy shore ; 
The mangrove snapper lurks in abyss de^p, 

The sheepshead feed where inlet salt-tides pour; 
In deep recesses of the winding creeks. 

In salt lagoons of Indian River tide. 
The groupers red. the gamest fish that swiTi, 

Pursuing helpless prey remorseless glide ; 
And here. O angler, thy supremest care 
Is taxed to drag the grouper from his lair ! 

Amid this lovely land of havens, rivers, isles, 
An endless wealth of rarest fish are found ; 

The rich pompanos. silver fish and jew, 
Kingfish and rockfish everywhere abound ; 

Fiercest of all the sawfish and the shark 

Skim the smooth wave or lurk in waters dark) 



"The groves were God's first temples. " 

— Bry.\nt. 



79 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FLORIDA FISHING. 



Here by the salt lagoons, the wild fowl's haunt; 

Where red flamingoes and the white swans sweep, 
Where the tall water oaks their branches droop. 

And green magnolias hem the currents deep ; 
Beneath the tufted groves that fringe the stream. 
Where lilies bloom and crimson roses gleam ; 

Here where the mangrove-isles, like emerald 
gems. 
The glassy surface of the seas inlay. 

The angler comes with swinging rod and line 
To seek the pastimes of his holiday. 

sumptuous region ! the Creator's hand 

Has sown so prodigal with floral blooms, 
There is no paradise on earth so fair. 

So rich with flowery charms and rare perfumes 
Here the great tarpon, armor'd with bright scales 

Like plated cuirass of the burnish'd steel. 
The swift cavalle and the channel bass 

Dart thro' the deeps and o'er the eddies wheel. 

By sandy beach or o'er the reedy marsh. 

Where curlews whistle and the plovers cry. 
For mangrove snapper and pompano rare 

We cast the humming line and feather'd fly ; 
And lure the grouper from the cavern'd deeps. 

The spot and sea trout in their flashing leaps. 

We love to tread the broad Savannah's space. 

The groves where oranges their globes display 
Beneath whose vaulted roofs the smilax twines. 

Hydrangeas lift the rosy-tinted spray. 
Dahlias and asters and the starry phlox 

Blossom perennial in the tropic air ; 
And all the colors that boon Nature loves 

Enchanting bloom, luxuriant and fair. 



80 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE CHANNEL BASS OF FLORIDA. 

In^this mid-winter of the Northern Coast 

I love to dreann of semi-tropic clime. 
Here rivers pulseless rest in death-like sleep. 

And gleams the icicle and frosty rime. 
Here naked woods are smother'd in the snow. 

The pastures buried in a gelid sheet, 
An icy shroud envelopes the broad lake. 

And Winter reigns in every lone retreat. 
Then 'tis a joy to muse on foreign realm. 

Where lofty woodlands line each placid stream, 
Where sweet magnolias and the orange grove 

Bend with their fruits, with perfum'd blossoms 
gleam. 
There where o'er marsh, or by the shelly shore. 

The wild fowl skim on balanc'd wings the air. 
The fowler reaps the harvest of the game. 

The anglers keen the abundant pastimes share. 
In sandy coves engirt with flowery blooms. 

By trickling rivulets fring'd with marshy grass. 
Thro' surge and river glides the tarpon grand, 

And mid the mangrove isles swim channel bass. 
In spring-time swarm their numbers in the bay, 

Flashing at inlets, in the flow of tide. 
O'er the sand-flats and by the shores they range. 

Seeking their food as dashingly they glide. 
Pursuing mullet in their greedy race. 

And, shark-like, ravaging the salty flood — 
Remorseless tyrants of the watery space. 
In the warm season of the summer time 

The surf is redden'd by their gleaming sides. 
They glitter where the frothy billow breaks. 

They flash above the ripples of the tides. 
Fearless and frantic, round the fisher's boat 

They plunge, they spring to seize the tempting 
bait, 
Fight to the death, surrender to their fate ! 
More fierce in fight, more valiant in career, 

A fish impetuous is the tarpon grand. 
Monarch of all the rangers of the Gulf, 

8i 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Matchless in vigor by the salty strand ! 
The channel bass, so famed for strength and speed, 

May ill compare with tarpon's savage might. 
The bluefish and the shark ne'er rival him in fight. 

Yet the skilled angler, with his tackle fine, 
Triumphant meets this tiger of the brine. 



TARPON FISHING IN FLORIDA. 

The tarpon is the crowned king. 

The royal chief of tropic seas. 

No rover of the watery worlds 

May rival its sublimities ; 

Supreme in mighty strength it roves 

In Mexic Gulf, Floridian coast. 

Swifter than shaft from Indian bow, 

A matchless, a resistless host ! 

Symmetric in his rounded form. 

With fins of ample size and sweep. 

Stern is its fight for liberty. 

O'er the great billows of the deep. 

For on its armor'd back is set 

A sharpen'd, dangerous bayonet ! 

Who may describe those plated scales 

Of burnished steel, of silver hue ? 

Smooth as a shaft of iron. 

Clear as a crystal drop of dew. 

They glisten like the moon's white beam 

When high the victim leaps in air. 

Rising like a sunset gleam. 

Struggling and raging in despair — 

Six feet of valor mad with strife. 

Two hundred weight of desperate life ! 

The bait is cast — the mullet bait ; 

It sinks, it slowly sinks from sight. 

But sudden — swift it onward moves : 

Now angler strike, and strike with might 

Now, now begins strategetic war. 

Free liberty, dark death the stake ! 

82 



HAUNTS OF WII.D GAME. 



With dexterous ruse, with brave assault, 

Striving the taci^le strong to break. 

The victim caught by fatal lure. 

Stung by the sharp, deep-planted steel. 

Plunges amain, then leaps in air. 

While hums the swift-revolving reel ; 

At last — and after hours of strife, 

Of anxious toil o'er briny fields. 

The silver monarch parts with life. 

And to the cruel gaff-hook yields ! 

The sportman's eager thirst for game 

The countless bison herds have slain. 

Exterminated the elephant 

From Africa's barbaric plain, 

In Asiatic jungles swept 

Tiger and lion from their haunt : 

But in these seas the silver king 

With man and shark may long contend, 

But at the last, the battle o'er 

Those kings extinct, will reach the end 



" You see the ways the tisherrnan doth take , 
To catch the fish ; \\ hat engines doth he make ? 
Behold ! how he engageth all his wits ; 
Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks and nets ; 
Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line, 
Nor snare, nor net, nor engine can make thine ; 
They must be groped for, and be tickled, too, 
Or they will not be catched, whate're you do." 



-BuNYAN. 



83 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



MENHADEN. 



O'er ocean waters, sound and bay 
The twinkling June-time sunbeams play ; 
And white with foam the billows shine 
Where the mossbunkers lash the brine 
Above them flocks of seagulls swing ; 
Beneath, the hungry bluefish spring. 
And deadlier still the surfmen strain 
The oar, and run the meshing seine. 

Where sweeps the broad and breezy bay 
Engirt by shores and woodlands gay. 
In shoals innumerable as sands 
That sparkle o'er the wrinkled strands 
The bunkers gather on the flood. 
Roaming the ocean paths for food ; 
And here the fisher-boats invade. 
Deep with the shining burden weigh'd. 

Off by the low New Jersey shore. 

Off where Long Island's surges roar. 

Off where the Narragansett Bay 

Its tribute to the sea doth pay. 

Off Massachusetts Bay profound. 

Off Maine shores with their pinewoods crown'd, 

Off where the billows chafe and fret 

O'er rocks along New Brunswick set. 

These fish innumerable pass 

O'er stormy seas, o'er seas of glass. 



" The water is the eldest daughter 
of the creation, the element upon 
whteh the Spirit of God did first 
move." 

— IzAAK Walton. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



BLUEFISH. 

Far as the foamy billows sweep, 

From northern reef to Arctic pole, 
Far over islands of the deep. 

Where tides incessant roll. 
The bluefish, roamers of the seas, 

Their endless voyagings urge ; 
Now plunging low in salt abyss, 

Now leaping o'er the surge. 
Where lovely shores of Florida, 

Enamel with their blooms. 
The broad Savannah and the coves, 

Delicious with perfumes. 
There rove the mangrove snapper schools. 

The tarpon, "silver king." 
The pompano, the bright cavalle. 

Then fierce thro' salt tides spring 
The bluefish in their sudden leap. 

The tyrants of the deep ! 
They swarm along each rocky coast. 

By Hatteras capes they glide ; 
Where Barnegat its inlet opes 

To greet the swelling tide. 
In salty cove, in breezy bay. 

In channel tides and sound. 
Their gleaming multitudes abound. 

Greedy for finny prey. 
Shapely are they, like pirate craft 

Remorseless to assail. 
Fair with their rounded, graceful sides. 

And the sharp, fork'd tail. 
The angler from some jutting reef 

Casts out his spinning line 
The fleet-wing'd, dashing yachts pursue 

The bluefish o'er the brine. 
And cruel pound and meshing seine 

Ensnare these rovers of the main. 



S5 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



BOSTON MACKEREL. 

Far o'er the seas, bright rovers of the deep, 

From Tropic to Equator range your shoals, 

From Belle Isle Strait to St. Helena's Isle, 

Far as the surges break, the billow rolls, 

Far up the Bosphorus and Marmora's sea. 

Your starry fins glide thro' the circling seines. 

While in their light cazieques the swarthy crews 

Pursue, rewarded oft with sumptuous gains ; 

And there great cormorants gather from the skies 

And with their greedy beaks dispute the prize. 

Near all the rounded year on Irish coast 

Your rainbow legions swarm along the deep, 

From cliff and beach the fishers watch your shoals. 

And quick their gallant shallops round ye sweep. 

Up the St. Lawrence, far as eye may range. 

The clamoring gulls and puffins mark your way ; 

They swoop, they revel in the dainty fare. 

And to pursuing boats your route betray: 

Round green New England coasts your numbers 

swarm. 
They sweep past rocky cliffs and reefs of Maine. 
In Massachusetts Bay, from cape to cape. 
Your shining columns lash the watery plain. 
Oft by Brant Rock, off Marshfield's famous shore. 
Or Point of Manumet in Plymouth Bay, 
My little boat, fast anchor'd, far from land. 
Among thy shoals has gained the ample prey. 
Those gleaming, leaping, rapid shoals, entice 
The hardy fishers all along the coast : 
On the Grand Banks of Newfoundland they swarm. 
Roaming in myriad schools, a countless host ; 
And here, in storm and calm, the mustering fleet 
Ravage the shoals in their deep-se-a retreat. 



86 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



COD. HADDOCK AND HALIBUT. 

In the Bay of Chaleur 

And afar where the Bank 
Of Newfoundland stretches 

So foggy and dank : 
In their black iittle schooners 

The fishermen sail. 
Now cradled in calm, 

Now tossed in the gale. 
For weeks and for months 

O'er those dangerous shoals 
Adrift on the ocean, 

The fishing-fleet rolls. 
Yet undaunted the crews, 

Though life be at stake. 
Cast hook for the halibut, 

Haddock and hake : 
They dash o'er the seas. 

While canvas will draw. 
Though the gusts blow in tempests. 

Or subside in light flaw. 



In past years I've had rare fishing day 
Beyond the islands that gem the wave. 
Far off o'er shoals of Middle Bank. 
In Massachusetts' breezy bay ; 
Ne'er anchoring our schooner trim. 
Drifting all night with lanterns lit. 
But when the dawn illum'd the East. 
And shadows of the night would flit. 
Then all around would dart and flash 
The Boston mackerel with a dash. 
And soon our deck with scaly spoil. 
The treasures of our angling toil. 
Would glitter, and that tempting bait 
Would lure the haddock to their fate. 
And twenty fathoms deep would take 
The codfish, halibut and hake. 



87 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

DRUMFISH [Pogonias Chromis). 
The rolling drum, the muffled drum 

That summons men to arms, 
That sounds from fort and battlement 

The reveille's alarms. 
That in the cities and in camp 

Rolls out its stirring note. 
Sounding o'er land and over seas. 

Wherever banners float. 
Yet here beneath the rippling tides 

It yields a hoarse and smothered sound, 
Where the salt current glides. 

Is a hollovz-murmured hum 
Showing the presence of the drum. 

It is the bulkiest of fish, 
The angler takes with rod and line 

Found o'er all regions of the coast, 
Haunting the ocean brine ; 

Its Winter home is where the woods 
Of Florida are green, 

Feeding where Sheepshead fish abide. 
On mollusks of the tide. 

But when Midsummer's skies are bright. 
They leave their southern home, 

Ranging the broad New Jersey coast 
Reveling in the foam ; 

The fisher's seine enmeshes them 
As they rush swimming past, 

But anglers standing by the surf 
Their circling hand lines cast. 

And soon the monstrous fish are caught 
And struggling to the shore are brought. 

The black drum is a mighty fish. 
Heavy and strong of fm, 

Armor'd with large symmetric scales, 
A victim hard to win 

His jaw is lined with rounded teeth, 
Crushing the mussel-shell. 

Grinding the hard clam in its crust 
Or oyster in its cell. 

So strong and gamesome that it tries 
The anglers prowess till it dies. 
88 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



BLACKFISH, OR TAUTOG. 

I love to muse o'er rocks that throw 
Their shadows on the tides below, 
And note the varied life that sweeps 
The salt abysses of the deeps. 
The blue-fish, leaping as they pass. 
The brown-strip d, pearl-enamell'd bass. 
The crab, the shrimp, the mussel-shell. 
The sea-egg, with its thorny cell. 
The moss to slippery rock that clings. 
The kelp, the seaweed with its rings. 
The lavish treasures of the sea, 
Forever precious unto me. 
Here, where the salt-tides ebb and flow 
Over the brown rocks, deep below. 
The greedy blackfish come to share 
The shelly bounties ever there ; 
Then rod is swung, and whistling line 
Draws out the victims from the brine. 



WEAKFISH. 

Now in these latest days of May 
The boats are out in breezy bay. 
Fast by some point that juts its bar. 
Its rocky buttresses deep and far ; 
Or by some river mouth that pours 
Its affluent current by the shores, 
The fisher casts his baited line. 
To tempt the weakfish of the brine. 
Long Island! where thy bays extend. 
Or where thy ocean borders trend. 
What joyous pastime thou dost yield 
To angler o'er thy watery field ! 
Ah, bright my golden days have sped. 
Where Barnegat's salt billows spread. 
Many the blissful hours 1 knew 
Amid Virginian waters blue. 
When from the pastures of the deep 
The finny harvests 1 would reap. 

89 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SEA BASS FISHING. 

It is a fair September day, yet skies are overcast. 

Scarce ripple on the wave, scarce whisper in the 
blast ; 

The tides are flowing in. By Gardiner's Island 
shore 

O'er sunken rock and pebbly reef tumultuous they 
pour. 

Where barnacles and shell-fish are plenteous in 
the tides 

The sea-bass gather to the feast that nature kind 
provides. 

So, 'tis a day for rod and hook and for the angler's 
line 

Then cast the baited steel, where boils the spar'K- 
ling brine. 

O'er some gray, granite ledge, that hems the andy 
land 

Equip'd with pliant rod. he hopeful takes his stand. 

With skillful hand he casts afar, his choice, entic- 
ing bait 

To tempt the speckled-bass or sea-bass to their 
fate. 

The plummet drops— the bait of clam or fiddler- 
crab sinks down 

Prone where abyssmal deeps, with rocks are thick- 
ly sown, — 

Nor long he waits, for soon a jerk, a thrilling jerk 
is there. 

The reel revolves, and quick a fish ascends to up- 
per air. 

A fisher with the hand-line is anchor'd in his 
skiff. 

Far out where runs a reef from a projecting cliff : 

A ripple blurs the surface that else were crystal- 
clear. 

So. 'tis a day for royal sport — a day to angler 
dear. 

The weak-fish glitter past, the blue-fish flash 
around. 



90 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Yet he seeks for other game, that swim in depths 

profound. 
He fishes where the sea-bass or speckled bass 

resort : 
For to lure these noble fish is his supremest sport. 




91 




Mr. McLelian In 1895 



SPORTSMEN AND NATURALISTS. 



* * * " And are not all these 
things a source of pleasure to 
the true woodsman ? Is he not 
necessarily a lover not of sport 
only, and of excitement — those 
are the ruder and less genial 
attributes of his profession— but 
a lover of nature ?" 

— Henky William Herbert. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE VETERAN SPORTSMAN. 

The veteran sportsman! wide the natural world 
Hath welcomed him, all perfect joys to share. 
Hath welcomed him, each dawning light to greet. 
Or taste the sweetness of the evening air ; 
Hath lured him forth from busy life's turmoil, 
From sordid search for luxuries and wealth. 
To breathe the mountain airs, the ocean breeze. 
Invigorating heart and limb with health ; 
The scenes, the sports, the pastimes of old days 
Bloom in the garden of his memories, 
When on his brow Age drops its silvery crown. 
And life's long road behind him faded lies. 
In fancy's dream, in memory's magic glass. 
Still bloom perennial each familiar scene ; 
The groves of childhood still as lovely stretch, 
The pastures and the meads still spread as green. 
The twisting brook that prattled down the vale 
Still sings to him the melodies of old. 
Chanting to him the same blithe madrigals. 
As it runs races o'er its sands of gold. 
The wilding flowers enamel still the plain. 
Lavish with perfume blow the breezes sweet. 
The song birds yet their operas rehearse. 
And with wild symphonies the veteran greet. 
The tufted groves bid welcome to their shades. 
The quail flock flutters o'er the stubbles still. 
The partridge drums, the snipe skims o'er the 

marsh. 
The upland plover circles o'er the hill: 
All sights and sounds, familiar in the past. 
Still cheer his heart while life and memory last. 
He well remembers old October times. 
Follows again the bevies of the quail. 
Or by each tussock-haunt and brambly hedge 
He drops the snipe and woodcock as they sail. 
By shaded stream that through the woodland 

twines. 
He marks the wood-duck and the blue-winged teal ; 
O'er breezy bay or far extending marsh. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



He sees the mallard and the widgeon wheel. 

In those past years no cares disturbed his mind. 

Their perfect bliss in memory is enshrined ! 

Kind ever in the pastimes of the field. 

He hath no frets, he ne'er triumphant boasts; 

He yields fair precedence in game resorts. 

O'er upland spaces, or by ocean coasts. 

In field, in forest, 'tis his honest aim, 

To warn the poacher and protect the game : 

For each young sportsman he hath gracious mood. 

Teaching him lessons of the bay and wood ; 

Perfect in health and joyous in his ways, 

He cheers with sunny speech inclement days: 

Hath ever kindliest word and helping hand, 

A cheerful nature to dispel life's gloom, 

And so his name and memory will survive 

On earth, while resting in the tomb! 



THE SPORTSMAN'S GREETING. 

Come, brother sportsmen, loving well the joys of 
rod and gun, 

Come, for the field-sport season its glorious term 
hath run ; 

Hang up the fav'rite fowling-piece and cartridge 
belt on wall. 

And by the social fire-side past ecstacies recall. 

And in these thrilling pages review each joyous 
scene 

Recorded for your pleasure in Wildwood's Mag- 
azine. 

Come, brethren of the rod dear anglers who 
have pass'd 

Each season by the waters, with many a skilful 
cast. 

Have followed thro' o'erhanging woods, the trout- 
stream on its way, 

And by the surging ocean have gathered finny 
prey ; 

Now lay aside the pliant rod, forsake the lake 
serene, 

96 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



And here renew the joys of yore in Wildwood's 

Magazine. 
Come, tourists who have wandered o'er hills and 

prairies wide, 
Enjoying nature's wonders by woods and ocean 

tide, 
Have climbed the soaring cliffs and scal'd the 

dizzy mount. 
Have trod the flowery vales and bath'd in crystal 

fount. 
Now put aside the tourist's staff, again enjoy 

each scene, 
Depicted in the pages of Wildwood's Magazine. 
Come, winsome maid and matron, who oft ex- 

plor'd the woods, 
And visited in hunter's camp, by forest and by 

floods. 
Have gathered blooms, have grac'd the board, 

and cast the silken line, 
Have dreamed beneath the branches of hemlock 

and of pine. 
Re-visit in soft fancies the wilds where you have 

been. 
Pen-pictured in the columns of 'Wildwood's Mag- 
azine. 
When spring-time spreads its em'rald green, boon 

Nature's forest bloom 
The spicy breath of woodlands, the verdure, the 

perfume ; 
Dear sportsman, think of pastimes by forest and 

by plain. 
The glorious sport o'er prairies, and by the sound- 
ing main : 
Good angler, cast in fancy's spell the humming 

line once more. 
Brave tourist, yet again the secret wilds explore ; 
Fair maiden, as you muse within the lighted hall. 
Those transports of the wilderness in memory 

recall, — 
Those happy days, and blissful joys in each en- 
chanting scene. 
Again revealed in glowing lines of Wildwood's 

Magazine. 97 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE SPORTSMAN'S LOVE OF NATURE. 
Good sportsman, thou hast ever lov'd to trace 
The streams, the woods of nature's vast domain, 
Loving to wander in the forest depths, 
Loving to meditate o'er grassy plain. 
Far in thy l^ingdoms, Nature, it is sweet, 
To tread thy precints wheresoe'er they be. 
Whether in flowery gardens of the land 
Or mountain fastnesses supremely grand. 
The hunters and explorers love to climb 
The craggy boulders, the granitic steep 
Where in dark caverns lurks the grizzly bear. 
The homes of bighorn, the great mountain sheep. 
With daring step he treads the wild ravine. 
The stony gulch, the canon's wide expanse. 
Where beetling precipices bar the way. 
Shunning no perils in his bold advance. 
Boon Nature with allurements charms the mind, 
By woods and waters, wildernesses green. 
Where leafy bowers endrape the tufted groves. 
Where verdurous slopes and valleys intervene. 
In the far south where orange orchards spread 
And waves are gemm'd by many a mangrove isle, 
Where twisting vines their garlands interweave. 
And flowery blooms in all the regions smile, 
There o'er the limpid surface swarm the fish. 
The giant tarpon cleaves the salty brine. 
The channel bass and sheepshead lurk in deeps. 
And swift cavalles and pompanos shine 
There is sumptuous pastime for his art. 
With rod and line so dear to angler's heart. 
He loves to saunter by the ocean shore. 
To mark the boiling surfs, the yeasty foam. 
To view the rippling billows as they flash. 
The crested breakers o'er the surface comb ; 
'Tis there in boat he skims across the wave, 
Casts line for bluefish or the sable bass. 
For Spanish mackerel or the bright squeteague, 
In waters rough, or limpid — clear as glass. 
In Nature's realms, by seaside or by woods 
He loves her well in all capricious moods. 



98 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE SPORTSMAN'S CARNIVAL SEASON. 

Welcome autumnal sports, autumnal scenes, 

Welcome the rambles in autumnal groves. 
Fair scenes, sweet sounds — bird songs in ever- 
greens. 

The woodcocks' flight, the cooing of wood doves. 
The squirrels chatter in the hickory tree. 

The plovers' whistle o'er the upland space 
The cries of baybirds by the shores of sea, 

The whirl of wild fowl in erratic race, 

The honk of wild geese o'er the waters' face. 
Enchantress Nature, with her magic wand. 
Fills with rare wonders the autumnal land ; 
The orchards bend with golden fruitage then, 

The harvest fields are opulent with grain, 
The woods wave gorgeous banners in the glen. 

Wheat shocks spread tents o'er cultivated plain. 
The pasture oaks wear a gilded crown. 
The elm trees lift their oriflamme of brown. 

The maple's foliage blushes with a stain. 
Far in the wild west rove the antler'd deer. 
The nimble antelopes circle in career ; 
O'er the wide grain fields and where corn is ripe. 

The speckled grouse flocks on quick pinions 
sail, 
O'er the oozy marshes flit the shy jack-snipe. 

O'er shaded stream skim wood duck and the 
teal. 
While o'er the tussock grasses of the vale 
The startled bevies of the whistling quail 

In coverts hide, or o'er the stubbles wheel. 
We love to hear the fowler's gun resound. 

The sheep bells' tinkle and the low of herds. 
All tones of rural life, wherever found : 

The hum of insects and the songs of birds, 
The locusts drone, the whip-poor-will's lament. 

The swallow's chirp, the murmur of the bee. 
The squirrel's chatter in his leafy tent. 

The echoing cheer of children full of glee, 

O'er sunny slope at play, or dancing round the 
tree. 

99 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Then comes the angler with his rod and reel, 
In anchored skiff he haunts the glassy lake, 
Intent to watch the shining victims break ; 
Or seeks the sandy borders of the shore, 
Where the salt billows of the ocean pour, 
There with lithe rod the bluefish prize to take. 



SPORTSMEN'S CLUBS. 

These are not soldiers, arm'd, equipp'd for war. 

Marching in ranks with gun and flashing sword, 
The fires of battle blazing in their eye. 

Charging some fort where blood is lavish pour'd ; 
Yet they are valiant and athletic all. 

Skillful with weapon and inur'd to toil, 
Prompt with their lives should e'er their country 

call. 
These are not seamen, sailing the broad seas. 

Braving the terrors of the raging main. 
Manning the guns of great embattled fleets. 

Dauntless in storm or battle's hurricane ; 
Yet in their shapely yachts these rule supreme. 

Triumphant ever where strange barks compete ; 
Fearless and cool when thrashing thro' the seas. 

When fierce tornadoes 'gainst the canvas beat. 
They are a kindly fellowship of men, 

Of genial soul, of generous, liberal hand, 
Who love in unison to share the joys. 

The manly sports of ocean or of land. 
They love when first the dusky dome of sky 

Is ting'd with pearly light and crimson hues. 
O'er dew-wet grass to seek the shaded stream. 

Soon as the shimmering beams the waves suf- 
fuse, 
Or when the sunset leaves a glorious trail, 

A splendor more of heaven than earthly vale ; 
For then and there they know the spangled trout 

Seeking their prey athwart the surface swim. 
Eager to banquet on the insect tribes. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Whose glittering wings the crystal surface skim ; 
And there the angler's feather'd fatal lure 

Drops softly down the victim to secure. 
So, tot), by ocean surf or salty bay 

They skim in shapely yacht the foaming deep. 
There take the Spanish mackerel, rich with dyes. 

Or ravenous bluefish as they upward leap. 
Anchored by rocky reef or shelly bar 

They cast the baited hook for sable bass. 
Or up St. Lawrence swing the skillful rod 

To take the springing salmon as they pass. 
So, too, the social sportsmen seek the plain, 

The prairie realm immeasurably spread. 
Where tassell'd corn-fields stretch, and golden 
grain, 

And the grouse-flocks with liberal feasts are fed ; 
O'er stubble-fields they track the whistling quail. 

Or the shy woodcock at the rivulet edge, 
Or drop the fluttering baybirds on the wing. 

Or where they settle by the yellow sedge. 
But nobler still their sport, their perfect joy. 

When hid in ambush'd boat at breezy bay. 
O'er mid the reedy marshes of the shore, 

They watch the geese-flocks pass in long array, 
Or mark the brant in dense platoons sweep past. 

The canvasbacks and redheads sweeping by. 
The blackduck legions speeding far and fast. 

The swift-wing'd sprigtail and the mallard shy ; 
Then great the joy and glorious the prize 

As each new victim falls to earth and dies. 



" Oh ! who that hath an eye to see, 
A heart to feel, a tongue to bless, 

Can ever undelighted be 
With Nature's loveliness?" 

— Unknown Author. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



NATIONAL SPORTSMEN'S ASSOCIATION. 

Come, brother sportsmen loving well the pastimes 

of the field, 
The joys of rod and gun, the woods and waters 

yield ; 
Come with united voice the wisest laws to frame. 
That shall protect from slaughter the fishes and the 

game. 
Come from the Union States a patriotic band. 
That shall protect the game through all our native 

land. 
Come brethren of the rod — dear anglers who have 

pass'd 
Each season by the waters, with many a skillful 

cast. 
Have follow'd thro' o'er branching woods, the 

trout stream on its way. 
And by the surging ocean have gather'd finny 

prey; 
Come tourists who have roamed o'er hills and 

prairies wide 
Enjoying Nature's wonders by stream and ocean 

tide. 
Have climbed the soaring cliffs, and scaled the 

craggy mount. 
Have trod the flowery dale, and bath'd in crystal 

fount ; 
Now meet in this White City, rehearsing pleasures 

past. 
Suggesting laws protective that shall forever last. 
When Nature opes its treasure, its beauty and its 

bloom, 
The spicy breath of woodlands, the verdure and 

perfume, 
Dear sportsmen think of past times o'er forest and 

o'er plain. 
The glorious sports of prairies, the joys by salty 

main ; 
Good angler cast in fancy the humming line once 

more, 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Brave tourist once again the bowery wilds explore. 
Fair maiden as you muse within this lighted hall 
The transports of the wilderness in memory recall. 
The jocund days, the blissful joys in each enchant- 
ing scene. 
Beside the rippling waters, beneath the forests 

green. 
True sportsmen ever are a brave, chivalric race. 
Obedient to the laws of angling and the chase, 
Ever a gracious fellowship, a fond fraternal band 
Of kindly souls, of generous deeds and open hand; 
Who love in unison to share the sport 
Of waters' realm and Nature's court. 



' Truly this life is precious to the root. 
And good the feel of grass beneath the foot ; 
To lie in buttercups and clover bloom, 
Tenant in common with the bees, 

And watch the white clouds drift through gulfs of trees. 
Is belter than long waiting in the tomb." 

— Unknown Author. 



103 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



AUDUBON'S MONUMENT. 

Ah, noble Audubon, who lov'd so well 

Thro' Nature's loveliest, loneliest woods to tread. 

To paint with matchless brush and loving heart. 

The birds of song thro' her dominions spread ; 

To track with patient toil the forest glades, 

A wanderer lone in wildernesses drear. 

Toiling o'er Northern mount and Southern plain. 

Unwearied with thy task thro' all the year. 

Dear to us all is thy illustrious fame. 

Deep in our hearts we consecrate thy name ! 

'Mid solemn silence or the sylvan sounds 
Of woods primeval, thou did'st love to rove. 
Noting all bird-life of those leafy shades. 
Rejoicing in their joys, their songs of love. 
The birds that skimm'd the empty fields of air. 
The birds that thro' the sombre forests sped. 
The flocks that o'er the boundless prairies flew. 
The sea-fowl o'er the salty lagoons spread, 
Were all familiar in each tone and hue; 
Each gorgeous plumage, each melodious note. 
Each hovering wing that o'er your head would 

float ; 
Sweet then the task the master's hand to trace 
Each grace, each glory of the feathered race ! 

Then let us raise a fair, memorial shaft, 

Sculptur'd with birds of every race and clime, 

Grac'd with thy lineaments, thy honor'd name, 

Memorial of our love thro' future time. 

Let it arise where first the glow of day 

Around its shapely pinnacle may fall. 

And sunset's rosy colors shall suffuse 

The graven name so precious to us all. 

There then the birds you lov'd their songs shall 

pour, 
Delicious harmonies of wood and vale. 
Where royal eagle shall above ye soar 
And evening whippoorwill sound mournful wail. 



104 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FRANK FORESTER'S MONUMENT. 

Come, brethren, consecrate the shrine. 

The fluted shaft or marble urn, 

O'er which morn's earliest beam may shine. 

And twilight's latest incense burn ; 

A fair memorial on whose face 

Thy name, dear Herbert, we may trace. 

Place not the shaft in cloister'd aisle. 

Where never blessed light may smile. 

Not in Cathedral grim and gray. 

Where brightening daylight ne'er may stray. 

'Mid charnel stones and ancient mold. 

And tatter'd fringe of canker'd gold ; 

But rather place it on some height. 

When free the breezes sweep their flight. 

Where blaze of sun or moonbeam blest. 

Or gleam of star may on it rest : 

So that the pilgrim wandering there. 

May gaze entranced on landscape fair. 

On purpled hills, on tufted grove, 

Where Herbert's footstep lov'd to rove. 

On grassy plain and flowing stream. 

On Greenwood lake, with all its gleam. 

O'er upland pasture, bowery grot, 

That once had echoed to his shot. 

Gaze down, see crystal streamlets shine. 

Where he had cast the angler's line : 

The lake engirdled with its wood. 

Where he the fisher's art pursued : 

Where far away, and fair to view 

To the horizon's hazy blue. 

The Warwick woodlands gloriously 

Roll their brown billows like a sea. 

Lover of nature ! his delight 

To watch the constellations bright. 

To see the glory of the day. 

Shine over mount or prairies gay. 

To see the woods majestic spread 

Their glooms, their wildernesses dread. 

And follow to their inmost heart, 

105 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The joys so dear to sportsman's heart. 
Here will the fluttering songbirds sing, 
Their tuneful madrigals of spring. 
The purple dove her plaint will pour, 
The meadow-lark will upward soar, 
The whippoorwill when eve is dim. 
Will chant her sorrowful, sweet hymn, 
While from the thicket of the vale. 
Pipeth the shrill responsive quail. 
And all the sights and sounds of love. 
Will consecrate the dusky grove. 



LINES TO A BROTHER SPORSTMAN. 
To my cousin, Samuel C. Clarke, (aged g2 years), au- 
thor of " Fishing in Florida," and elder brother of ihe late 
Rev. James Freerl-vn Clarke. 

Yes! here where once we used to swim. 

And where our sailboats used to skim. 

And where our holidays were pass"d. 

And baited hooks and lines were cast. 

Where golden hours and youthful joys 

Were all too short for us. gay boys, 

Rise stately roofs and palaces, 

Embower'd 'mid flowers and drooping trees ; 

Where crowded streets and noble squares. 

The city's crowded thoroughfares, 

And fashion's pomp, and busy trade. 

And gentle lover's promenade. 

Have long usurped the watery space. 

And left of our old haunts no trace ! 

Of all those schoolmates few remain, 

Few links of the long-sunder'd chain ; 

Few of that group that loved to pass 

O'er the old Common's sacred grass, 

Or gather where the old Elm stood. 

The latest patriarch of the wood ; 

Who down the Beacon slope would ride 

On snow sled, or with swift skates glide ; 

Who lov'd in summer afternoon. 

When leaves were green and birds in tune. 

To gather where the Rope-Walk gave 

1 06 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Its welcome to the tidal wave. 
Just where the Public Garden now 
Spreads flowery blooms and leafy bough ! 

A marvellous, vast change, I ween. 

Is there where those old joys have been ; 

Those days 1 love now to recall — 

The days of cricket, bat and ball. 

The days of marbles, tops and kite. 

So brimm'd with pleasure and delight! 

The days of fishing sport, so dear, 

At Cambridge Bridge or Long Wharf pier : 

The days of bliss, when life was new, 

When joys were many, cares so few ! 

Few of that bright, rejoicing train. 

In all the walks of life remain ; 

And in that few I haply meet. 

On stately square or crowded street, 

I see no long-familiar trace 

In snowy hair and wrinkled face! 

The limbs that used to run like deer. 

Are crippled in life's long career ; 

The hands once skilled to pull the oar 

Or swing the rod are strong no more. 

Some sleep in dust of native land, 

And some repose on foreign strand ; 

Some by the palm trees of the shore. 

Where Indian billows rave and roar ; 

Some where Pacific billows sweep. 

Long since have laid them down to sleep : 

And some are reverend preachers now. 

Of solemn step and thoughtful brow. 

Or merchant princes, rich in gold. 

The playmates of those days of old : 

But all are mindful of the joys 

Of that far time when they were boys! 



107 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



DEDICATORY TO "FIELD AND STREAM." 

This whole region, spreading far and wide, 
Thrills with its beauties every human soul. 
Its spacious grassy plains, its craggy mounts. 
The limpid streams that thro' its spaces roll. 
Entrance and fascinate each sportsman's heart. 
And to his senses ardent joys impart. 
It is the purpose of this journal new 
To sketch the features of this lovely land. 
To lead the readers thro' those magic realms, 
The hills, the plains that charm on every hand ; 
The countless lakes, so fair, so picturesque. 
Where the glad angler finds sumpreme delight ; 
The sparkling brooks, the rivers broad and deep 
That pour thro' shaded groves, or flash with light ! 
We guide the hunter o'er our beetling cliff. 
We lead his step thro' gulch and canyon wild 
Where range the deer, elk, moose and antelope 
That have for ages thro' those haunts defiled 
Good Sportsman ! Thou hast ever lov'd to trace 
The streams, the woods of Nature's vast domain, 
Loving to ramble in the forest-depths, 
Loving to meditate o'er grassy plain ; 
Far in thy kingdoms. Nature, it is sweet 
To tread thy precints, wheresoe'er they be. 
Whether in flowery gardens of the land. 
Or mountain fastnesses supremely grand ! 
The hunters and explorers love to climb 
The craggy boulders, and the granite steep. 
Where in grim cavern lurks the grizzly bear 
The homes of big-horn, the bold mountain sheep; 
With daring step he treads the wild ravine, 
The dusky chasm with its vast expanse, 
Where rugged precipices bar the way. 
Shunning no perils in his brave advance ! 



1 08 



WITH RIFLE AND SHOT GUN. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE GUN. 



In Autumn-time, when pearly dews are glistening 
on the grass, 
And the crimsons of the dawnings enkindle 
clouds of air, 
And every passing breeze adds elixer to the blood. 
Then Nature bids the sportsmen to woods and 
wilds repair. 

In long-departed years our favorite shooting gun 
Was the muzzle-loading piece, reliable and true; 

It was a trusty weapon, forever in my hand 
In forest-land or thicket, or by the waters blue. 

When the herbage of the prairies was touched with 
blighting frosts 
And all harvests of the wheat-fields in graneries 
were bestowed. 
And the shocks of golden corn, like tents, o'er- 
spread the field. 
Then forth o'er stubble furrows exultingly I 
strode. 

No other gun in those old days was known to 
sportsman's hand ; 
That flint-lock fowling-piece, so killing in the 
chase ; 
Long ere percussion-caps their quick precision 
gave ; 
Long ere the smart breech-loader usurped the 
old gun's place. 

Yet with those arms now obsolete full many a joy 
I knew 
When wild-geese flocks were passing, in wedge- 
shaped columns long. 
When o'er the broad salt marshes the wildfowl 
flew in clouds — 
The black duck and the widgeon, a migratory 
throng. 

When in the wood the partridge swept through the 
fir and pine. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



When in the tangled swamp the woodcock made 
its lair, 
When from the stubble-tussocks swept bevies of 
the quail. 
When by the salty shores the snipe-flocks 
skimmed the air. 
But now the smart breech-loader is peerless in the 
field, 
It reaches full perfection m shooting and in 
shape ; 
Such are the arms of Parker, Lancaster and Scott, 
Of Francotte and Forehand, whose names be ne'er 
forgot. 
Of American and the Ithaca, from which few 
birds escape. 
With these our noble sportsmen are well equipt for 
fray. 
In forests where the wild deer speep through the 
leafy glooms. 
In upland pastures, where the flocks of plover skim 
the air, 
Or where the snipe and wildfowl exult on rapid 
plumes. 
Good brethren of the gun. who love the sports of 
field. 
Be ever prompt and vigilant for game law rights 
to care, 
Protecting in close-time the game of wave and 
wood. 
The red deer of the woodlands, the birds that 
beat the air. 



" One impulse from a vernal wood 
May teach you more of man, 
Of moral evil and of good 
Than all the sages can." 

— Wordsworth. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



AUTUMN SPORT. 

The greenwood shadows, grim and weird, 

Lie heavy in the forest shade : 
But here and there the transient gleams 

Fall brightly, and the woods prevade. 
There, in dense canopy of leaves. 

Those beams illuminate with glow 
The verdant billows of the grass 

That spread a sloping floor below. 
Tis a fair haunt, a lovely scene. 

With tufted woods and opening stream — 
A sparkling brook that riotous 

Slips o'er the sands with sudden gleam. 
So here, in tussocks of the swamp, 

The lonely woodcock has its home. 
Springing alarmed when sportsman's gun 

Resoundeth in the thicket's gloom. 

In tangled recess of the wood. 

Where thick the pine trees weave a shade. 
The partridge rears her callow brood. 

Those timid tenants of the glade. 
'Midst golden grain, in stubble field. 

The grouse flocks have secure retreat. 
Luxuriating in the fare — 

The bearded oats, the yellow wheat. 
And here the russet-plumag'd quail 

Riots amid abundant feed. 
Lurking amid the sheltering grass, 

Or fleeing swift with frighten'd speed. 

In wildernesses of dense groves 

Range far and free the dappled deer. 
Browsing beneath the dusky shades. 

Or fleeing far in swift career — 
For here the hunter's deadly aim 

Slaughters the wild, unwary game. 
O'er reedy marsh, o'er meadows salt. 

The snipe-flocks in vast legions pour. 
Winging across the ample bays 

Or o'er the beaches of the shore. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Here gray-wing'd willets speed their way. 

The sickle-bill curlew has flight, 
The brant birds and the robin-snipe 

Wheel high in air or prone alight. 
So. later yet, the sea-fowl flocks — 

The mallard and the pied-shell drake. 
The broad-bill and the brilliant teal — 

O'-er marsh and waves their journeys take. 
And by the sands and rocks of shore. 

The migratory flocks of coot. 
Of old-squaws, sea-ducks and the loon 

Swing high in air beyond pursuit. 
Thus endless pastimes and rare sport 

Tempt gunners to each good resort. 



WOODCOCK SHOOTING. 

In August and September time. 

The season's rare, imperial prime, 

The ardent sportsman hies with gun 

To swampy clump or brooklet run, 

For there where densest shades pervade 

The hidden haunt and thicket glade. 

The woodcocks lurk in hermit lair. 

Feeding at will on daintiest fare : 

So there, despite the toil and heat, 

The gunner seeks that dim retreat. 

In Springtime they leave Southern ground 

For distant Northern regions bound. 

So when the early bluebirds sing 

In orchards of the budding Spring, 

And when their lays the robins chant 

The woodcocks migrate to their haunt. 

For snows have melted and the rains 

Have moistened all the loamy plains. 

And here in sheUered lowland space 

They find secluded feeding place ; 

And later, 'mid the alder woods. 

In bottom lands they rear their broods. 

Though lovers of low fens and swamps, 

"3 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



They ofttimes make their chosen camps 

In high spots, where no rains molest 

Their callow broods, secure in rest. 

In warm Spring evenings one may hear 

The woodcock's whistle, loud and clear. 

His love notes soft as liquid strain 

Of rival songsters of the plain ; 

With guttural prelude to his song 

He rises on his pinions strong. 

In spiral circlings, high in flight, 

His notes still heard, though lost to sight ; 

But sweeter still his liquid notes. 

As downward to his nest he floats. 

Oft when afar is feeding ground 

From covert-haunt, they may be found 

Uprising, spirit-like, from glooms 

Of the dense woods, on dusky plumes ; 

Swift darting through the twilight skies, 

Thence to low bogs and brook he flies. 

To angler, in the Summer's flush. 

Following the trout-brook's dashing rush, 

They oft their russet plumes display 

An instant, as they speed away. 

Then in the thicket's densest screen 

Evanishing, no more are seen. 

When Summer days are on the wane 

And green leaves change to brighter stain. 

When crops are in and grass again 

Springs fresh along the harvest plain, 

Then the blithe bird hath swift career. 

Its whir of wing more sharp and clear. 




114 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE RUFFED GROUSE, {Bonasi Umbellus). 

A score of intervening years 

Hath vanished since I trod the scene 
Of early sports and wildwood joys, 

Yet still they bloom, forever green. 
In memory 1 recall each morn 

That woo'd me, with the dawning light. 
Enticing me to meadow side. 

O'er dewey grasses, twinkling bright : 
And, as I paced the valleys wide. 

The earliest songbirds tun'd their lay. 
The robin pour'd its soul of song. 

The blackbird trill'd on leafy spray. 
Then to the bosky groves 1 pass'd. 

To wilderness of solemn shade. 
Where pine and hemlock wove a screen. 

And silence did pervade. 
'Twas there where woodbines drap'd the oak. 

And swinging grape vines intertwined. 
Where mountain ash wore verdant crown. 

And high in air soar'd plumy pine. 
That the shy partridge led its brood 
In dim recesses of the wood. 
I lov'd to hear its rolling drum 

Sound from some bole of fallen tree. 
Or startled, on affrighted wing. 

Speed thro' the forests, far and free. 
So dense the shade, that scarce a beam 

Of light would gild the mossy floor. 
Where the pine-needles and the leaf 

Had spread a russet carpet o'er. 
Where scarce the gunner's step was heard 
To startle the unconscious bird. 
When drifting snows o'erspread the ground, 

They seek low roosts on thick-top'd tree. 
Or shelter'd spot where bushy-heap 

Form'd covert in security ; 
And there, on winter green and seed, 
In season of the winter feed. 
They love a broad and breezy height, 



"5 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



A lofty ridge with woodlands crown'd. 
Where flows a crystal mountain brook. 

'Mid solitude of glooms profound. 
There, o'er the tufted groves they sweep. 

Or over sunny slopes of green. 

Gleaming a rich, delicious sheen. 

When Autumn feasts enrich the scene 
And then the hunter's zealous toil 
Is crown'd with opulence of spoil. 



JACK-SNIPE SHOOTING. 

No birds so wild, erratic in their flight 

As these wing'd rovers of the air and seas, 

Each fickle, sudden change of temperature. 

Each quick, capricious shifting of the breeze. 

Is follow'd by mutations in their flight. 

Hovering, hesitating, where they may alight. 

They restless change their favorite feeding-ground. 

Where they had revel'd in abundant feast. 

And causeless flit to other far resort, 

Thus baffling well the shooter's toilful quest. 

So cheated sniper in its wonted haunt 

Oft fails to find the roving emigrant. 

The golden rule for all who seek their flocks 

Is soft approach and silence most profound : 

No bird so shy, no bird so keen of sense, 

To fly alarm'd at every faintest sound. 

O glorious Autumn ! there is joy supreme 

In all thy rosy dawns and purpled eves. 

A charm by sparkling brook and river-stream. 

In drooping woods with all their fluttering leaves. 

'Tis then, o'er salty marsh and meadow-space 

We note the zig-zag flitting of the bird. 

Hear its sharp "scaipe, scaipe" in the devious race. 

As o'er its grassy feeding-ground it whirrs. 

In Spring the meadows are not sole resort, 

Then oft they seek the upland pastures wide, 

Wet spots in fields of Winter wheat and rye, 

ii6 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Or grassy tussocks by the ditch's side ; 

In windy weather they seek woodlands wet, 

Sheher'd by alders or a willow-hedge, 

Or spots on open marshes fenc'd around 

With bending rushes, or the yellow sedge. 

Though oft they migrate in the glooms of night. 

They frequent fly in darksome, cloudy days, 

Oft you may hear aloft in midnight air 

Their whistling "scaipe, scaipe" as they onward fare. 

Not every marsh is haunted by Jack-Snipe. 

For in sour soil no worms or birds are found, 

And when sharp frosts still linger in the earth. 

They come not — but when soften 'd is the ground 

By gentle airs and the soft, dropping rain. 

Their instincts prompt a sure return again. 

In habits they're eccentric as in flight. 

At times they early come, then long delay ; 

Again, their feeding-time is oft at night. 

Then with the earliest dawn they skim away 

To center in some quaking, swampy slough. 

Or brushwood fringing some wet, marshy place. 

Or to near uplands, where they feed secure. 

Baffling the gunner in his fruitless chace. 



THE PLOVER. 
When autumn skies are flash'd with blaze 
And autumn groves with glory shine, 
When maples wear their scarlet robes, 
O'er which the grapevine wreaths entwine. 
Then far resounds the plovers' cry, 
As swift o'er upland space they fly. 
O'er old Montauk's ravines and slopes, 
Full oft I've mark'd their legions pass, 
Now circling, plunging high in air, 
Now fluttering, hovering o'er the grass. 
The birds migrating urge their flight 
In crowded ranks, in serried files. 
Wheeling, and pausing to alight. 
Seeking the insect swarms that fill 
The grasses of the plain and hill. 

117 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Those plover tribes, the blackbreast flocks. 
Ne'er cease their flight o'er pastures wide. 
Their haunts are by the meadow lands. 
Where flows and ebbs the salty tide ; 
And there, in ambush, hid away 
The fatal fowler seeks his prey. 
The golden plover! none more fair 
Of all the wings that beat the air ; 
Birds are they of the bright, warm fields, 
Darlings of breeze and azure skies, 
Glad harbingers of early spring. 
And coming autumn with its dyes. 
Now swift athwart the grass they flit, 
How rapid, sweeping on the wing. 
Now swooping low above the grass. 
Now brightly glancing as they pass — 
Arriving when the grass sprouts green, 
Departing when the airs blow keen. 
The upland plover! Sweet its trill. 
Its operatic, liquid note, 
Like the soft breathing of a flute 
Its symphony in air doth float ; 
So low so sweet, one scarce may see 
This winged minstrel of the air. 
Till sudden a gray wing floats by. 
And drops the feather'd lyrist there ; 
Then o'er the grass lands, far and free 
Swells out the bubbling harmony ! 




ii8 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



AUTUMN FLIGHT OF THE BAY SNIPE. 

Whither through empty space. 
Dost thou, flock, on winnowing wings, 
Pursue thy migratory journeyings. 

In tireless, onward race? 

Beneath ye as ye fly, 
Float the fleet clouds where brilliant colorings blend. 
While o'er ye heaven's blue distances extend. 

The arched, celestial sky. 

Far in some Northern home. 
Have ye the Spring and Summer seasons known. 
Beneath the ice floes of Arctic zone, 

Where stormy surges foam. 

Far out on the sandy shore, 
Where the coarse grass waves o'er the reedy swamp. 
Where the swart Esquimaux hath pitched his camp. 

Your endless flocks would soar. 

But now when Autumn frost 
Touches with subtle spirit leaf and flower. 
And glows with splendid hues each forest-bower 

With pomps emboss'd. 

Pause here your restless flocks : 
Stoop ye from airy flight to earth again, 
Cease your migrations o'er the salty main 

O'er sands and weedy rocks. 

These marshes, far and wide. 
Extend their grassy plains and yellow reeds, 
Sumptuous with fare on which the sea-fowl feeds ; 

Then pause, and here abide. 

Rich pastures ye invite. 
Where sand-flats, mud-banks, fringing the broad 

bay, 
With feasts abundant beckon ye to stay, 

And on them to alight. 

There satiate with rich feast. 
When frosty rigors blight the woodland flower. 
And storms Autumnal o'er the waters lower, 

Enshrouding all the East, 

119 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Then swift on your pinions rise, 
To Summer realms, to tropic regions speed. 
To warm savannahs and to flowery mead. 

Beneath fair Southern skies. 

There where the palm-groves droop. 
And sweet magnolias and the orange grow. 
Gather your legions by some river's flow. 

And o'er those meadows sweep. 

The Great Creator's hand 
Will guide your flight in all your wanderings 
To fields Elysian, there to fold your wings 

In the enchanted land. 



WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 

The fowler ever finds some new delight 
Amid the varied scenes that Nature spreads ; 
Far from the tumults and the clash of life, 
Thro' all her loveliest haunts rejoiced he treads. 
By lone brooksides, o'er canopied with trees, 
He views the gay-hued woodduck wing its flight. 
By the sand borders of pellucid lakes 
He sees the teal and blackduck flocks alight ; 
Bright skies smile o'er reflected in the wave, 
Soft, winnowing breezes ruffle their expanse. 
The woods autumnal cast a grateful shade. 
The mallard pinions o'er them shift and glance : 
And here he drops his gay decoys to lure 
The hovering flocks, and make destruction sure. 
Oft where the breezy bay outspreads its sheet 
He lurks in ambush 'mid the russet reeds. 
Casts o'er the blue expanse his searching gaze. 
To mark the shallows where the blue-bill feeds : 
Behind him rustle the o'er leaning woods, 
Above him stretch the over-arching skies, 
The welcome breezes thrill his sense with joy. 
The rippled wastes of waters glad his eyes. 
The restless fowl innumerous sweep around. 
And the long day with royal spoil is crown'd. 
On stormy wings the wild geese squadrons come, 



HAUNTS OF WIL.D GAME. 



Circling the shallow bays and marshy isles. 

They hover overhead in phalanx dense, 

They speed in wedge-like shape, and serried files ; 

In migratory flight these pilgrims pass. 

With course unerring thro' the fields of air, 

Honking and clamoring ere they shyly drop 

To feast and riot on their dainty fare. 

These feather'd wanderers on some Northern coast. 

Have flown and feasted all the Summer long; 

Have crept the grasses of far Labrador, 

Have swept o'er frozen seas in countless throng. 

There 'mid the barriers of eternal ice. 

Where glaciers shine and tidal currents freeze. 

They framed their nest and rear'd their yellow 

brood 
'Mid desolations bleak of Polar seas ; 
And now those restless, migratory flocks 
O'er Rocky Mountains pass, o'er ocean coast. 
Dropping in coves secluded, or wide bays. 
Still southward pressing, an unnumber'd host. 
Until at length they fold their wings in rest. 
Where orange and magnolias shade their nest. 
In the far west where grassy prairies stretch 
Their billows infinite, their vast expanse. 
When harvest grain is yellowing o'er the plain. 
And cornfield banners in the breezes dance : 
Then come the winged flocks from fields of air. 
Over the rivers sweep and o'er the lakes, 
They feed on wheat fields by the bordering stream ; 
They swarm o'er lakelet, crystal brook and pool. 
They greet each dawning with its crimson flush. 
They come when evening drops its shadows cool. 
And there the fowler finds supreme delight 
In daybreak swarmings and in evening flight. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FOWL SHOOTING ON THE ATLANTIC 
COAST. 

Fair scenes 1 view along the shores serene, 

The Autumn pomp, the Summer's vivid green. 

1 tread the woods embowering the shore. 

And view in fancy's dream the scenes of yore ; 

Once more I see migrating geese in air, 

As forth in serried phalanxes they fare, 

1 see them swooping o'er some outer ledge, 

Or hovering o'er the salty, yellow sedge ; 

I catch the dusky legiorjs of the brant 

Sweeping and darting o'er some watery haunt : 

Again 1 view in fancy's magic glass 

The blackduck squadrons as they onward pass: 

1 hear the quacking o'er the ample bay 

Of sprigtail and the widgeon far away, 

1 see the blue-winged teal in whirling flocks 

Skim o'er the shallows or the inlet rocks ; 

And wide along the sedgy meadows plain 

1 see the baybirds fluttering again ; 

There jack curlew and sicklo-bill curlew 

Still urge their flight, as in past years they flew ; 

The plover, dowitch and the yellowshank 

Flit o'er each reedy pool or muddy bank. 

And as they beat with pinions the salt air. 

1 hear their shrilly whistlings everywhere ; 

So, there for sea=;ons of supreme delight 

I hid in bushy ambush for their flight ; 

Oft by New England's rock-engirdled verge 

1 watched the wild fowl speeding o'er the surge. 

Have marked from day dawn to the close of days. 

Their wift procession o'er Long Island bays ; 

With set decoys, and ambushed in the reed 

At Barnegat, have viewed their pinions speed ; 

In Currituck and shores of Chesepeake 

Have watched their flight in thoroughfare and creek; 

Full oft by rock and reef have urged pursuit 

Of the long columns of the dusky coot ; 

Oft in my little boat, with keen delight. 

Have raised the gun to check them in their flight. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FALL DUCK SHOOTING. 

The year is waning, and November late, 

Paints with its frosty brush the forests green ; 
Now prairie ponds and shallow sloughs are skimm'd 

With the thin ice that gleams with silvery sheen ; 
The wildfowl now those icy haunts forsake, 

To seek the running stream, the rivers deep. 
Where they may gather and enjoy their feast. 

And o'er the waters sweep. 
By the steep banks, where swift the currents run. 

Or where the open water spreads a lake. 
They congregate in numbers infinite. 

And with their dipping wings the surface break. 
Fast by the reedy shore securely hid. 

The fowlers in their boat thro' bushes peer ; 
They watch those circling squadrons high in air 

Wheeling and poising in their fleet career. 
Now to the channel tide at length they stoop. 

They hover o'er them with their wings outspread. 
They skim the waves, uncertain to alight. 

As if some menaced danger they would dread. 
At last the redhead fowl fly fearless down, 

No doubtful flight — straight prone their squad- 
rons bear ; 
Then come the pintails dropping from the clouds. 

And last the shyer mallard poise in air. 
As if in doubt to end their skyward flight. 

Long circling, hovering, ere they would alight. 
Now see the bluebills dart down with a swish. 

And now a flock of greenwing'd teal sweep by. 
Heedless of duckcall, or the fowler's lure. 

For they to distant ricefields rapid fly. 
Or haply they their swift migrations urge. 

To Summer climes beyond the Southern surge. 
Now as the frosty season rules the year. 

And icy* floes adown the rivers pass, 
When fades all foliage on the forest trees. 

And frozen streams shine like the crystal glass ; 
Then all the flocks on clattering pinions rise. 

Passing from slough to pond, from stream to 
lake, 

12? 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Seeking in vain for ancient feeding-grounds, 

The floating seeds, the acorns to partake. 
Where they might swim the waves, or pinions 
preen, 

Skimming the air in regions all serene ; 
Alas, in vain, the rigid ice hath clos'd. 

O'er the swift ripples and the lucent deeps, 
For bounteous banquet to them is denied. 

So the great flock quick in migration sweeps. 



THE SCAUP DUCK (BLUEBILL OR BROAD- 
BILL), Fuligula Marila. 

Far over ocean surf or breezy bay, 

Where the salt tides tumultuous toss the foam ; 
Far over Western streams that wash the inland 
realms, 

Your restless legions have perennial home. 
Far o'er Atlantic borders we have mark'd. 

Your rapid journeymgs by each rocky shore. 
Where rough New England's reefs jut out at sea, 

And where the Shinnecock spreads sandy floor ; 
Where Currituck extends its broad expanse. 

And Chesapeake, Virginia's borders laves. 
Your myriad, hovering cohorts we have seen 

Cleaving the air or skimming o'er the waves. 
In Western realm, an open-water tribe. 

They love to skirt the far mid-river tide ; 
Safe from the fowler's airn they idly rest. 

Or, fitful circling, o'er the waters glide. 
Hardy and tough, they like inclement skies. 

When the wild billows turbulently roll. 
Their pastime then to ride the crested waves. 

Diving o'er frothy deeps or sandy shoal. 
On bright, still days, when calm the waters sleep. 

In slothful rest they idly float th' expanse. 
Or, swiftly swept by currents of the stream. 

Content they drift where swift the billows dance. 
When the broad stream is clogg'd with crystal ice. 

Sluggish they drift a-near the river-bank. 

124 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Floating with tide o'er sunken reef and bar, 

Till warn'd by hum of life, or engine's clank. 
They rise in fright and speed afar their flight. 

Then quick returning, once again alight. 
The floating ice in shapeless, crystal cakes 

Crashes and crumbles, piles from shore to shore. 
Then is the bluebill's carnival of sport ; 

They climb those ice-floes, floating o'er and o'er. 
They clambering scale each drifting cake at will. 

In slothful indolence enjoying rest ; 
And there in scull boat the hid fowlers drift, 

And with red slaughter the great flocks molest. 



INLAND DUCKS. 
Far over inland stream and lake 
The wild-fowl their migration make ; 
First comes that feathered emigrant 
The mallard duck, a noble game, 
Rich captive of the fowler's aim. 
He seeks not the deep-water lake, 
For there no food he may partake. 
But finds his home in shallow ooze 
'Mid cane-brakes and the muddy sloughs : 
And there with blue-wing teal they pass 
The spring-time, banqueting on grass. 
Thence to their Northern breeding-ground at night. 
The flocks migrating urge their flight. 
But when October days are here. 
And autumn chills the atmosphere, 
And gathered in is harvest grain, 
And buckwheat ripens o'er the plain ; 
When close-cut stubbles of cornfield 
Their bounteous, golden repasts yield. 
Then mallard, pintail, broadbill, teal, 
Across the rich rice-marshes wheel ; 
But all the wild, deep-water breed 
Scarce leave profound abyss to feed, 
For canvas-back and red-heads make 
Their chosen haunts in deepest lake, 
And diving in their keen pursuit. 
Feast on wild celery's juicy root. 

125 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE WOODDUCK, OR SUMMER DUCK. 

Most lovely of all birds of air, 

That cleave the cloud, or skim the watery space, 
The wood-duck with its plumage rare, 

Holds the supremest place. 
Thick with rich plumes more gorgeous than the 
hues 

The bird-of-paradise displays, 
Gay as the rainbow's glowing arch, 

Resplendent with its rays. 
Brighter than tints imperial spread 

At sunset, o'er celestial domes. 
Than tropic birds of sunniest realms, 

Their flowery fruitful homes, 
In vain may bard or Art essay. 
Your rare perfections to portray. 
A home bird — ne'er to Arctic snows, 

To Northern reef or Boreal bar, 
Do their migrating courses tend. 

Sweeping o'er land and ocean far ; 
But East and West, where'er a stream 

Winds o'er the prairies' vast extent. 
Where'er a brooklet's crystal tide 

Pours 'neath the woodland's leafy tent. 
Where'er a brimming river sweeps. 

Or lake, green-hemmed by forest shore. 
The wood-ducks hover o'er the deeps, 

Their flocks the bushy glades explore ; 
There build the nest, there rear the young. 
Their cradles on high branches swung. 
So, there where bordering meadows slope 

And in the stream their grasses lave. 
Where trees reflected line the stream. 

And lily blossoms gem the wave. 
The wood-ducks with their yellow brood. 

Luxuriate in the gelid flood. 
The willowy, shallow creeks they haunt. 

Where close the thickets hem the tide. 
Or by the shores of ample lake. 

They revel in the waters wide. 

126 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Thro" all the blossoming days of spring, 
In summer heats, in autumn days. 

The shadows of their pinions fall 
O'er the secluded coves and bays. 

And when the frosty months draw near 

They vanish to more genial sphere. 



THE SPRIGTAIL DUCK (PINTAIL), Anas Acuta. 

Swift-flying pilgrims of the realms of air! 

Few of duck tribe may rival ye in speed ; 

Perch'd on some grassy tussock of the stream. 

Ye seem the champions, all bird-flights to lead. 

With admiration deep we watch ye swim 

By muskrat-house, or drift-wood's tangled pile. 

Calling so softly, with melodious note. 

To your mates hovering in the air the while. 

Greedy for larvae, buds, and floating seed, 

Your luscious banquet, your luxurious feed. 

■When the snow melts and little rivulets run 

Thro" the low prairies, forming lake-like sheet. 

These wary birds on sounding pinions come 

O'er watery plains to find a safe retreat. 

The fowlers seek to reach them, all in vain ; 

They catch his form and instant upward spring ; 

Circling they soar beyond the weapon's range. 

And er broad marsh and timber safely swing. 

In his bush stand, concealed in grassy spot. 

The fowler views the skyward flight in vain. 

'Whistling and chattering speed the feather'd crew. 

Slow to pitch down to water or to plain. 

They hover o'er him. whistling as they fly. 

Gaze down repeating a derisive cry. 

Yet there be times when this shy, wary fowl. 

Seeing the set decoys, will venture round : 

They catch the luring snares, then drop the wing. 

Eager to settle where such feasts abound. 

Be all alert : ye know not whence they come. 

From sailing cloud or woodland's bowery height ; 

127 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Sudden a flock may sweep beyond decoys. 

Whirling in space, and fearful to alight, 

Then with elusive jump they upward spring. 

Beating the air with swift-escaping wing. 

Far up the frigid coasts of Labrador 

Sprigtail and widgeon are but seldom known : 

Only the oceanic fowl frequent 

The gelid waters of that Northern zone. 

An inland bird, it haunts the Western realm. 

Skimming o'er ample pond and slough and lake : 

Low o'er the submerg'd timber-lands to sweep, 

Where the tall beech-woods from their branches 

shake 
Their nutty banquets, and the oak trees cast 
The russet acorns, cluster'd in their tops. 
And there the clamoring sprigtail, gazing down. 
Eager for feasts his winnowing pinion drops. 



THE CANVASBACK DUCK. 

When autumn's flushed, celestial skies 

Pour from full urn their varied hues. 
And mingled colors of rainbows 

The foliage of the groves transfuse ; 
And every landscape is ablaze 

With crimson stain and pomp of gold — 
A panorama infinite 

O'er plain and woodland is unroU'd, 
Then sportsmen have their carnival 

O'er stubble-field and meadow space. 
Where in the woods the partridge flocks 

Have lonely haunt and feeding-place. 
And where the grouse flocks of the plain 
Sweep o'er the harvests of the grain. 
Then how delirious is the sport 

O'er salty tide and breezy bay, 
Where winds continual from the north 

Bring the duck-flocks in long array. 
Then wild geese in a lengthened file 

Skim the blue wave or cleave the sky 

128 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The blackduck, widgeon and the brant 

Far o'er the water spaces fly. 
And noblest game, the canvasback, 

O'er Chesapeake's broad billows feed, 
Hovering or stooping to the feast 

Where spreads the valisneria seed. 
Their legions in the autumn haunt 

Potomac and the Chesapeake. 
But when the skies inclement frown. 

Their flocks a milder region seek. 
And there, where watery pastures spread. 

And gentler breezes fan the wave. 
They revel in the bounteous fare. 

And in the temperate billows lave ; 
But when the wintry months have pass'd 

Their tireless migrations press 
To Northern wilds and frostier realms. 

Far up Alaska wilderness, 
In California, Oregon, 

Their countless multitudes abound ; 
In Illinois — by fen and lake — 

And Iowa their flocks are found. 
Wherever their choice bulbous fare 

Enriches shoal or deepest tide, 
There, luxurious, they abide, 

There beat with winnowing wings the air. 



TEAL SHOOTING. 

The gay-hued green-wing and the blue-wing teal 

Brilliant in plumage each in gold and green ; 
No lovelier denizen of earth or air 

'Mid the fair feather tribes is seen. 
Swift in their flight, they baffle with their speed 

The smoking weapon and the fatal lead. 
Swifter than Indian shaft they cleave the air — 

Swift as electric flash their flight is sped. 
When bright September, with its sunny breath. 

Ripens the fruitage and the golden grain — 

129 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Enamels all the woodsides with gay flowers, 

Entwines its rose wreaths over mount and plain. 
Then first 'neath roseate Summer clouds are seen 

The hovering, swooping legions of the teal, 
Skimming o'er tufted wood and lake serene, 

Heedless of fowler's skiff or shotgun peal. 
Far have they journeyed from their Northern home. 

Where they have rioted and raised the brood : 
Winnowed o"er weedy reef and sandy bar, 

Seeking luxurious and abundant food. 
But when the North wind blows with chillier breath. 

And icebergs crash and floes chafe at the shore. 
Then these bright-plumag'd children of the air 

Vanish, some milder regions to explore. 
In Middle States and thro' New England realm. 

Over vast prairies of the fertile West, 
By winding river and secluded lake, 

The teal-flock gathers, a thrice-welcome guest. 
Where winds the sparkling brook thro' meadows 
green, 

Or where 'mid bowery groves it joyous sweeps. 
Where rolls the river past its bushy fringe. 

The teal its holiday, rejoicing, keeps. 
There, o'er some muddy bank or reedy isle. 

By sheltered shore or green, secluded cove. 
They bask in sunshine, drowsily at rest. 

Or on the wing flit swiftly thro' the grove. 
Or to some haunt of wild rice or of oat 
On rapid-beating winnowing pinions float. 
How oft in happy, long-departed years, 

Have 1, at Stooling point or Northwest edge 
At thy green shores, Bay of Barnegat ! 

Watch'd for teal flocks, swift-darting o'er the 
sedge, 
When the first roseate blushes of the day 

Flush'd all the East, engilding cloud and land. 
Ere blackduck and the widgeon winged their flight. 

The early teal would hover o'er my stand. 
My set decoys would lure their searching eye — 
They whirl, they circle, and in mid-air die ! 



130 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



WILD-GEESE. 



Sailing in the solemn midnight underneath the 

frosty moon. 
I can hear the clanging pinions of each shadowy 

platoon. 
Hear the winged hosts commotion, marching to 

the Northern Ocean. 
File on file, rank on rank, speeding to some reedy 

bank, 
Oozy fens or marshes gray, far up Baffin's icy bay; 
Honking, clamoring in their flight under the black 

clouds of night. 

Sailmg thro' the noonday heavens, their battalions 

I discern, 
Wedge-like or in open column, still toward the 

North they turn ; 
Straight o'er Jersey's sandy borders, o'er Long 

Island's sea-like sound. 
Past Montauk or bleak Fire Island, north, still 

north unerring bound ; 
High above the loftiest pine tree, far above the 

stateliest oak, 
Still unflagging their dark pinions beat the air with 

steady stroke. 
Winging over wastes of ocean, over voyaging 

ships they pass, 
Where from reeling mast the shipboy notes them 

with the uprais'd glass. 
And the fisher m his dory drops his line to view 

their flight. 
And the baffled fowler gazes, hopeless, till they 

fade from sight ; 
Inland over plain and pasture, over mountain. 

wood and stream. 
Onward speeds the long procession, northward the 

swift pinions gleam. 
Through the rough, dark months of winter, in what 

sunny clime, 
"Mid green lagoons and savannahs, pass'd ye the 

delicious time ? 



13" 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Haply amid verdurous islands where the Mexic 

billows smile, 
'Mid sweet flower-glades and gay plumage ye 

would riot all the while; 
Haply amid red flamingoes, hovering o'er some 

lilied lake, 
■Where the aloe droops its branches and the palms 

their branches shake. 



MIGRATIONS OF THE WILD-GEESE. 

Under the midnight moon 
1 hear the clanging pinions of the geese. 
Quick-flapping, that never seem to cease. 

Swifter than duck or loon. 

These wing'd hosts have come 
From Southern lagoon and from limpid lake. 
From ocean borders where the billows break. 

Their sunny Winter home. 

I see them high in air, 
Touch'd by the glancing moonbeams in their flight. 
Skimming athwart the floating clouds of night, 

As on they ceaseless fare. 

Sweet, genial scenes they knew 
Where gay magnolias wav'd their snowy bells, 
And orange groves were fragrant with their smells. 

And green palmettos grew. 

By each enchanting haunt. 
Where birds of gorgeous plumage fill'd the wood. 
Where red flamingoes in the shallows stood. 

And flew the duck and brant. 

There, in that temperate zone, 
The geese-flocks o'er the grassy meadows fed 
Their yellow goslings, o'er the marshes led 

In haunts to man unknown. 

And when the airs of Spring 
Will breezy o'er the wide savannahs pass. 
Wide over wood, and lakes as clear as glass. 

The wild-geese ply the wing, 

132 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



O'er Currituck they speed. 
O'er Chesapeake's blue watery plain they sweep. 
O'er Barnegat their journey still they keep, 

Or pause where they feed. 

Right onward, onward still. 
They skirt the level sandy-bordered coast : 
Fast o'er Long Island bays, that feathered host. 

O'er beach and sand-dune hill. 

Hastes the unwearied flight. 
O'er Maine's bold shores they winnowing sweep, 

Ne'er deigning to alight. 

Until they reach those seas ; 
The icy banks of Baffin's ample bay. 
Thro' Belleisle Strait they urge their onward way 

Where lakes and rivers freeze. 

Far up the Greenland beach. 
Amid the lonely, marshy solitudes. 
The wild-geese rest and rear their callow brood. 

Beyond the fowler's reach. 



FLIGHT OF WILD GEESE— '87. 

High up in upper field of air 

1 note your serried phalanx on its way ; 
Now rank on rank your winnowing squadrons press. 

And now a wedge-like host display. 
A soft south breeze stirs overhead. 

Peconic Bay in slumber sleeps in rest ; 
There is no ripple o'er its blue expanse, 

No foam-wreath on its breast ; 
The withered Autumn leaves on Shelter Isle 

Without a rustle settle to the ground. 
The curling smokes on many a village roof 

Rise not, the calm is so profound. 
Better you like a stormy blast, 

A wrathful hurricane the earth to shake. 
To help your flapping pinions on their flight 

O'er forest range and lake ; 
For slow your laboring cohorts sail 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



As if wing-weary on your journeyings far, 
From Belle Isle Strait and dreary Labrador 

You pass o'er craggy cliff and bar, 
Where all the Summer long in reedy swamp 
Hath been your breeding place and camp. 
Upward our wondering eyes behold 

This pilgrim apparition of the skies. 
This grand procession painted 'gainst the clouds. 

'Gainst morning cloudlets flash'd with roseate 
dyes. 
1 list your honking, clarion notes. 

Like bugles cheering the mad fight's career! 
How sweet and flute-like, tremulous they fall, 

Soften'd by distance to the ear. 
Vainly, close hid, in lurking boat. 

Or in thick ambush of the sedgy shore. 
The fowler may his deadly weapon raise. 

His leaden hail on your wide ranks to pour ! 
Pass on, brave birds, far down the Jersey beach. 

But linger not in Barnegat's great bay. 
Nor pause at Currituck or Pimlico, 

For cruel gunners there obstruct the way ; 
But urge thy gleamy wings to Southern clime. 
To calm lagoons, where orange grove and lime 
With golden fruits are ever in the prime ; 
Where pelicans and red flamingo flocks 
Hover in peace o'er sands and weedy rocks. 
Oft in the past in such wild fowl retreat 
Have 1 found robust health and pastimes sweet. 



THE WILD SWAN. 

Far dost thou come, bird of noblest form. 

From stormy regions of the Arctic home ; 
From icy floes where walrus herds resort. 

And the black seal-flocks tumble in the foam : 
Where prowls the white bear o'er the icy fields, 

And rise the snow huts of the Esquimaux ; 
Swart tribes are they who dare the frothy surf, 

Pursuing victims with the spear and bow. 



134 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



There o'er the drifting, far extending snows 
The shadows of thy wings sweep o'er the floes. 
In Western realms thy race is nigh extinct, 

Realms where thy flocks once fill'd the air of 
yore, 
Haunting the lakes and rivers in great flocks. 

The great bayous and unfrequented shore ; 
But now, alas! thy swarming files forsake 
Those ancient haunts in river, bog and lake 1 
In ages past thy beauty charm'd the world. 

Great nobles, where their shapely barks were 
built. 
Would seek perfection in thy perfect shape, 

Modeled with skill, resplendent with their gilt. 
In such fair bark went Cleopatra forth 
To conquer Antony and rule the earth. 
Far off in Southern haunt, in broad lagoon. 

In sunny isles, grand archipelagos 
Where the white sands with crystal shells are strewn . 

And each green glade with golden fruitage glows : 
Where soars the palm-trees and magnolias rise. 

And gorgeous flowerets shine like brilliant skies. 
There 'mid perennial blooms thy home shall be 
Thy snowy pinions sweep o'er shore and sea. 



' Hunting is the noblest exercise, 
Makes men laborious, active, wise ; 
Brings health, and doth the spirits delight, 
It helps the hearing and the sight ; 
It teacheth arts that cannot slip 
The memory, good horsemanship, 
Search, sharpness and defense, 
And chaseth all ill habits hense." 



JOHNiON. 



'35 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE SHARP-TAILED GROUSE. 

Long o'er the dreary desert men have toil'd. 

Where only the wild sage-bush fill'd the sand; 
At length, in Southern Idaho their camp 

Is pitched — an oasis of hunter's land ; 
It is the game-land, in a grass'd plateau. 

By a clear stream that sparkles down the dale. 
Fring'd by the quaking aspens and the hedge 

Of bear-berries, prodigal through the vale ; 
And here the whirring sharp-tail grouse have made 
Their chosen haunts, in thickets of the glade. 

In earliest spring-time, ere the grass is green, 

Ere tender foliage robes the branches sere. 
The grouse from woods of cedar and of pine 

(Where they have passed the winter-time of year) 
Descend in packs to skim the verdurous plain, 

'Till frosts invade to drive them back again. 
There the maternal bird selects her nest. 

Not in dense groves, nor 'mid the grasses green 
Of upland valleys, but where roses wild 

With matted leaves the hidden refuge screen ; 
And here the warrior-sentinel, her mate, 
Watches the nest, with loving pride elate. 

Their camp is in a park of green expanse, 

Fring'd by a willowy brook — a crystal sheet — 
Where ravines ope their aspen-border'd gates, 

And blacktail deer resort for dim retreat. 
Far off rise peaks capp'd with eternal snow, 

While 'neath the snow-line piny forests grow. 
Early and bleak along the mountain range 

Comes the stern winter, with its tempests black ; 
Then from the lowland valleys and the streams 

Hasten the grouse-packs in assembled pack. 
To choose their home-haunt for the winter-time. 
Sheltered by woodlands from the frosty rime. 

Here perch'd on pines they seek a friendly roost. 
And here the lawless poacher comes to stay : 

Then all the startled flocks speed off in fright. 
But at the dusk return, a helpless prey. 

1^,6 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



When deep snows sweep the mounts, those hardy- 
birds 

Burrow in snow-drifts to escape their foe ; 
Or. when the thicKets may not screen from stornfs, 

They 'scape the blizzard, buried in the snow ; 
But when the frost forms all the snows a crust 

The imprisoned birds dig tunnels that may save. 
And there, close-packed, in safety they repose, 

Though oft they perish in that frosty grave. 



THE NESTING AND FEEDING ROOSTS OF 
THE WILD PIGEON. 

The blue, wild pigeons seek the sunless roosts 

In lonely forests of far Michigan. 

In deepest, inmost, unfrequented wilds 

Of Minnesota and Kentucky realms. 

In Indiana groves. Ohio wastes ; 

And further South, in Mississippi haunts. 

They thickly congregate in earliest Spring 

To build the cradles for their callow broods. 

And late in year their feeding roosts to seek. 

Years since in utmost East those purple flocks 

Swift-winnowing in myriad flights the air 

Hovered o'er forest-glooms and harvest plains. 

Where ripe the yellow grain-fields scatter'd seeds. 

There rioting where corn-fields wav'd their flags. 

Where oat-fields shook their ruddy pennoncells. 

Where crimson strawberries painted the green turf. 

Where hedge-side weeds their seeded tributes cast. 

Where luscious blue-berries lavish d a repast. 

And chief where oaks with acorns strew'd the 

e.arth. 
But later still when emigration pass'd 
Onward to Western plains and prairie-lands. 
And axe and plow the virgin acres ope'd. 
Then to those new-found fields the pigeon-flocks 
In endless multitudes sought bounteous homes. 
In the Spring-time they seek some calm retreat. 

137 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Where miles of forest stretch their bowery realms. 
And here they build the nest and rear the young. 
Here tender grass and undergrowth die out, 
And earth is strewn with wither'd branch of trees, 
Broken by weight of birds that roost above. 
And then the forest trees decay and die, 
As if the girdling axe had sapt their cores ; 
And here the farmers, greedy for the spoil 
Encamp'd beneath that nursery immense, 
Engather up the crush'd and dying birds. 
That fall by thousands from the o'erladen boughs ; 
Twas perilous then to pass beneath those woods. 
Under these myriad crowding, falling flocks. 
That snapt the branch by weight of multitudes. 
Then hawks and buzzards sailing in the air. 
Seize the young squabs, and riot in rich feast. 
While like the thunderous roaring of the surf. 
The tumult of their pinions shakes the air! 
But when October kindles the great woods. 
Flushing the oaks and beech-trees with their blaze. 
The flocks return and with their crowded roosts 
People the branches where the beech-nuts grow. 
And thrill the air with flutterings and sounds ; 
And when the generous nut-harvest fails. 
The flocks in numerous processions pass. 
Where milder Southern climes give welcome 
homes. 



THE VALLEY QUAIL OF CALIFORNIA. 

Far over Californian realm. 

Far down the sultry Mexic coast. 
The valley quail o'er mount and vale 

Assembles — a shy, countless host. 
Though haunting the sea-level line. 

It finds a home on upland space, 
Happy in torrid, shadeless glare ;. 

Happy in cool, secluded place. 
Whose arbors of wild rose and grape, 

The sycamore with festoons drape, 

138 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Alike to him the settler's glebe, 

Or lofty hill-top far away 
Whether he feeds on strawberry feast, 

Or dry grass-seed, in sterite clay ; 
Forever sleek and cheerful where 

The scantiest herbage spreads its fare. 
Forever busy is the quail, 

Fore'er on wing save in the night 
Ne'er sits with ruffled, drooping plumes. 

But ever is alert in flight ; 
Its plumage rich, and sweet the note 

That, various, bubbles from its throat. 
Its bevies over acres spread. 

O'er stubble-field, or sundried grass : 
Out of the cactus patch they spring. 

From sumac clump or rocky pass ; 
And in each canon dim we hear. 

At morn, at eve. the clanging strife 
Of fluttering wings, and see the air 

Fill'd with blue lines of feather'd life. 
Step cautious gunner — for their spring. 

As forth they burst on whirring wing. 
Will cheat thee — for in white sage brush. 

Wreath'd with the garlands of the pea. 
They hidden lie — and forth will whiz. 

With whistling chirpings as they flee ; 
Or. happy where grow poppies red, 

Or wild buckwheat with flowrets spread, 
They lurk — then quick on buzzing wing 

The baffling darlings upward spring! 
'Tis a fair scene that charms the eye — 

The earth ablaze with blooms unknown. 
Skies purer that all foreign skies 

Bird songs of unfamiliar tone. 
Views of green slopes that roll serene. 

Long undulations, blue and green. 
Until they end in far-off hills. 

Whose peaks the mind with wonder fills. 



139 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE WILD TURKEY. 

These noble birds that did abound 
Innumerous over Northern ground — 
Victims so oft to northern sport — 
Now seek in southern realms resort : 
In Mexico, in Texas State. 
Their numbers are supremely great, 
Where strutting, gobbling flocks are seen. 
Most frequent in the forests green, 
And there oft thunder-like are heard, 
The flappings of the turkey bird. 
Seek them where gloomy shadows fall 
Beneath the woodland dim and tall : 
In the dense alder-brakes, or where 
The dark pines lift their spears in air. 
Where slow or winding rivulet creeps, 
Or swift thro' bushy ravine sweeps. 
Hid in tall grass that spreads around. 
Your call deceptive, faintly sound, 
And soon you hear each answering note. 
From the embowermg thickets float : 
Soon will perceive the cautious game 
Step forth — then steady be your aim. 
A hunter, ere the dawning day, 
Flushes with blaze the forest's way. 
Selects his ambush near a wood. 
Where roosting, rest the noble brood. 
'Tis lovely morn of early spring. 
That gilds the earth with blossoming : 
The violets and daisies white. 
Enamel earth with colorings bright. 
The red-buds with their pinkish spray. 
Entwine the trees with garlands gay ; 
The humid air holds odors still. 
Of wild-plum blooms o'er plain and hill. 
While snowy dogwood blossoms cling 
To branch, the bridal-wreaths of Spring. 
Then all the wood-bowers teem with life. 
With wild-wood melodies, are rife, 
Then sudden from a dense tree top, 

140 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



On dashing wing the turkeys drop, 
Skim in wide circles down the air, 
Then sink to earth the feast to share, 
While quick the fowler's shot is heard 
And bleeding, struggling dies the bird. 



WILD TURKEY HUNTING. 

It was the nnorning of a sweet spring day. 
When all the woods were rob'd in perfect green. 
When earliest flowers were faded where they grew. 
Daisies and violets, children of the Spring: 
The red-buds rare that garlanded the trees 
Had cast their roseate blossoms to the earth. 
Yet still the air their dying fragrance held ; 
The song-birds filled the air with melodies. 
Fluting their varied liquid symphonies — 
Sweet operas of woods, blithe concerts of the wild. 
A scarlet songster from his oak-tree crown 
Pour'd o'er the hunter his full anthems rich. 
When silence deep the woodlands would pervade. 

Ambushed in leafy covert long he sat. 
Watchful and patient— yet no gobbler came; 
At length the sharp sound of a broken twig 
Reaches his ear — and he is all alert. 
And as three deer stepped forth he raised the gun, 
But no — 'tis season close — he spares the shot : 
Slow and unharm'd the three does saunter'd past. 
Listening and cropping dainty buds of vine, 
And soon with lazy step they vanished by. 
Now sun is up, bespangling forest leaves. 
And scattering pearly dewdrops on the grass. 
Ah! there he is! — the object of his search — 
Moveless as statue in the edge of woods; 
He struts, he gobbles, but he moves not near. 
And so the cautious hunter, creeping low. 
Seeks closer blind beneath a thicket s screen. 
There waits with bated breath and ready gun. 
And lists the victim's gobble sound again ; 

141 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



And he replies with three short, smothered yelps. 

Again the gobble and the answering cries, 

And still afar the wary creature lurks. 

At last the hunter moves to open glade. 

At edge of which a bushy hide is found. 

And there in perfect ambush prone he lies. 

Again the gobble and responsive yelp! 

As nearer, nearer comes the welcome sound; 

The hunter's nerves are strung in thrills intense. 

Two minutes pass — it seems to him an age — 

Then comes a glimpse of white, tall-lifted head 

Above the tangled bushes of the glade. 

'Tis still a moment — then it gliding comes ; 

And soon with stealthy, striding step moves on, 

The glossy form of this wild knight of woods 

Clad in his feather'd panoply of bronze. 

Ere he has reach'd the glade he sudden stops ; 

He stands erect, quick glancing all around. 

As listening to some warning of a foe. 

His folded pinions clasp'd like plated mail. 

The hunter knows his quarry has but come 

To peep into the glade and then pass on ; 

So there's a rapid glance along his gun — . 

His silver bead fits truly at the notch. 

Settling exact upon the victim's breast; 

Then quick is trigger touch'd, a thund'rous crash ! 

A whirl of feathers and outspread of wings. 

Convulsive struggle, and the gobbler falls ; 

One tremor and one gasp — the victim dies ! 




142 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FIELD SPORTS IN EARLY DAYS. 

TO S. C. CLARICE. 

In past years we together rang'd, 

Dear cousin, far o'er prairies wide, 
Plains of illimitable space, 

Like billowy sweep of ocean tide. 
Immense those grassy worlds outspread, 

Dotted with groves by creek and lake. 
Groves like fair islands of the seas. 

Isles that the rolling surface break. 
To the horizon's hazy line 

They stretch, with tall grass waving green. 
Enamell'd with their snow-white flowers, 

Like surf o'er ocean's face serene, 
Then all that spacious realm was thrill'd 

With bird life in each shady wood, 
Birds trilling flute-like melodies. 

Enchanting the dim solitude. 

Endless the game in those old days 

To tempt the hunter's zealous guest ; 
The partridge drum'd in densest grove. 

Or hover'd o'er its hidden nest ; 
The grouse flocks swept the prairies far. 

They sprang from tussocks of the grass. 
Their pinions beat the empty air. 

And swift o'er harvest stubble pass'd 
The wild ducks haunted swamp and creek. 

They gather'd o'er each muddy slough. 
Their rapid pinions swept the plain. 

Their legions o'er the marshes flew. 

The canvasback, the mallard tribe. 

The woodduck, spoon-bill and the teal. 
The blackduck and the widgeon flocks. 

O'er every reedy pool would wheel. 
The red deer, startled from his haunt. 

Through thicket dense and grove would speed. 
Tossing his antlers in the chase. 

Defying hunter and his steed. 

Those were the years for sportsmen's zeal. 
143 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



For rich reward and sumptuous spoil : 
Not far to seek for noble game. 

Not unrewarded was the toil. 
But Time, they tell, hath wrought a change. 
The pigeon flocks now scarce are seen. 
Extinct are all the bison herds, 
And vanish'd have the hunted deer. 
The great grouse flocks are thin and few, 
Those million ducks seek "pastures new,'" 
Yet hunters keen find pastime still. 
With patient toil, consummate skill. 



DEER. 



Far in the hemlock forests of Maine 

And where thick the pine woods weave a shade. 

The noble stag with branching horn 

Flits thro' the densest wood arcade ; 

By Moosehead Lake far up the waste, 

And where Penobscot's sources rise, 

The forest hunter takes his stand. 

And in the tangled thicket lies ; 

There waits in ambush for the deer. 

That comes to taste the brooklet wave. 

Unconscious of the lurking foe, 

So eager in the fount to lave ; 

Then quick the rifle's deadly aim 

Slaughters the unwary forest game. 

Where thick the Adirondack groves. 

Outstretch a wilderness of woods. 

Casting a sombre endless shade 

O'er placid lake and river-floods. 

The hunter comes with gun and hound 

To seek his prey in that lonely ground : 

He knows by tracks in the grassy land. 

By broken twig or hoof-print there 

That dappled hind comes there for rest 

And crops the feed in that chosen lair ; 

No sign may escape the hunter's eye. 

So the wary deer comes there to die ! 

144 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Where the Southern plantations spread 

The wild deer thro' dense forests rove ; 

They speed thro' thicket and tangled glade, 

Cropping the grass in shaded grove, 

And there the eager cavalier 

With whoop and hulloo follows the chase 

Cheering the fierce pursuing hound 

In headlong dash, and tireless race. 

In long past years, ere emigrants pour'd 

In countless bands o'er the distant West, 

Beyond the Rocky Mountain slopes 

And o'er the prairie realms they pressed. 

The early settlers and trappers found 

In trackless wastes abundant game. 

The stately elk, the grizzly bear. 

The antelope, the mountain sheep, 

That scoured each plain and woodland-lair; 

And there the stag with antlers crown'd. 

There in each ravine and prairie-plain. 

Roamed free in all that forest ground 

And there were by the ardent hunter slain. 



HAUNTS OF THE DEER. 

Far up 'mid Adirondack fastnesses. 
Where Nature spreads her grand, sublimest scenes. 
White torrents foaming down the rugged slopes. 
Wild gulch, dark chasms and the steep ravme. 
Thick, towering forests of the evergreen. 
The hunter loves to track the noble deer. 
And follow with his hounds that flying game. 
Here builds his bowery camp ; his fragrant couch 
The tender tips of some tall hemlock tree ; 
His drink the crystal waters of the brook. 
His food the venison haunch or fowls of air, 
And here far-off from vex'd turmoils of life. 
Far from its traffic and its greed of gold, 
Content and happy pass his healthful years. 
Grand here the scenes that burst upon his view. 
Gray, splintered cliffs and pinnacles sublime, 

145 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Shaggy with sombre woods and solemn shades 
In whose recesses lurk the bear and wolf; 
Fair too the scene outspreadmg far and near, 
Broad valleys verdurous with meadows green. 
The winding rivers with their silvery sheen, 
The tumbling brook that leaps from crag to crag. 
The wide, undimpled lake, whose lucent sheet 
Reflects the bending forests of the shore ; 
While high above him spreads a canopy, 
Of heavenly azure and celestial light ; 
Where wandering breezes fill the dusky groves 
With hymnings tuneful as angelic choirs 
Or chant of organs in Cathedral domes. 
No wonder then his soul finds deep delight 
'Mid scenes so fair, in wonder-land so grand, 
When every waking hour is full of joy, 
Seeking the browsing deer from wood to wood ! 
Ere dawn hath dappled with its roseate hues 
The dome of skies, or touch'd with flame the clouds. 
The hunter with his hounds forsakes the camp. 
And thro' the darken'd forest takes his way. 
He tramps thro' briary swamp and alder brake. 
Glides thro' the vaulted arches of great woods. 
O'er upland slopes and granite crag and cliff. 
Then lies at ambush in some run-way haunt. 
While far away his noble stag-hounds range. 



HUNTING THE DEER {Cervus Virginianus .) 

These graceful creatures in the long-past years 
Swarmed o'er all regions of the continent. 
And still exist where forests have been spared, 
And wanton rapine have not thinned their flocks. 
In sections of New York they yet abound, 
In Adirondack wildernesses wild. 
But chiefly haunt the forest depths of Maine. 
Finding retreats in evergreen arcades. 
By shore of lake and at the river's edge 
Where they elude the hunter's fateful quest. 
Hiding in pathless woods and tangled swale : 

146 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



But even there they meet remorseless foes, 

Where loggers grim and ruthless lumbermen 

Hew with their axes the entangled woods. 

Unsparing, slaughtering all the woodland game ; 

For these rude spoilers, in their lawless moods. 

Slay wandering caribou and browsing deer. 

In every season close of the protected year. 

They watch each runway by the lakelet marge. 

In leafy ambush lurking for the game. 

The prey that comes the limpid waves to taste. 

Or plunging, riot in the cooling tides ; 

But chief these cruel slaughterers collect. 

Where billowy hillocks of the drifting snows 

Fill every icy hollow of the waste. 

And then when crusts and drifts obstruct the way. 

These rough marauders on their snowshoes borne, 

Entice the deer and slaughter them at will. 

The honest hunter in some forest grove. 

At brink of lake or by a river shore. 

Lies ambushed while he listens for the yelp 

Of the fleet deer-hounds as they range the waste. 

Then when the pack give warning with their cries 

He knows the quarry are aroused in flight. 

And hid by rock or tree he takes his stand, 

Ready with rifle and with deadly aim ; 

But if the deer in lakelet seeks escape 

He follows, paddling swift his light canoe, 

O'ertakes the victim swimming for its life. 

And those bright lakes, deep woods and breezy hills, 

No spot in nature is so passing fair. 

Whether the groves their Summer tresses wear. 

Or draped with colors of Autumnal hues ; 

So there is work for hunter's deftest skill. 

For true foot, strong arm and the keenest eye. 

For him who best can rouse the lurking deer. 

Bringing him to bay, raise high victorious cheer. 

And bear the spoil triumphantly to camp. 



147 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



CARIBOU HUNTING IN A CANADIAN 
WINTER. 

On with the snow shoes, for the drifts lie deep, 

Gather'd in hollows, crested on steep ; 

For in glooms of untrodden forest land. 

Where rise the fir branches and hemlocks grand. 

These great stags of the North have chosen haunt. 

Where never a glimmering sunbeam may slant. 

Awake. O sleepers, while stars are yet bright, 

Ere the first gleams of day shine out on the night. 

Then all rally forth from the hunter's camp 

O'er the glass-like surface driftings to tramp. 

Onward, right onward presses the band, 

Till the caribou's yard is close at hand ; 

In wild forest glade, where many a hoof 

Has trampled a space 'neath the forest roof; 

And there assembled, they feed at will. 

In safe retreat from the rifle's skill : 

Vain trust, for the hunters the haunt have found. 

And in fatal ambush the yard surround ! 

Grand scene to witness ! surpassing strange, 

Gigantic bulls at point-blank range. 

Flapping their huge ears with the cold, 

Like slothful cattle in farmer's fold. 

While the cows are browsing the fir tops sweet. 

Trampling the grass with cloven feet. 

Secure from harm in this woodland retreat. 

At given signal the rifles flash. 

The bullets in bone and sinew crash. 

And all is tumult, terror and blood, 

While the virgin snows blush crimson with blood. 

Some of these forests cattle in death lie low. 

Some wounded in drifts flounder to and fro, 

Bellowing savagely, menacing fight 

If antler'd males, in furious might. 

While those who escape the deadly lead 

Far off in trackless thickets have fled. 

The sharp knife bleeds, the prostrate slain. 

The rifle, the tomahawk end their pain, 



148 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



But beware. hunter! draw not too near 
With empty rifle the caribou deer. 
For the wounded quarry, mad for strife, 
May charge the hunter at peril of life ! 



MOOSE, (Alces Americanus). 

This noble creature in departed years 
Rang'd free the Northern regions of the land. 
Ere came white hunters with the hound and gun. 
Their browsings to molest in depth of woods ; 
The deadly rifle, the breech-loading steel 
Then woke no echoes in primeval groves, 
The trapper was unknown in solitudes, 
And only the red Indian sought the herds. 
And with the spear and arrow slew the game ; 
Far as the Northern land has been explored. 
Far as the Arctic regions stretched immense. 
Their clattering hoofs the forest soil impress'd. 
The Great Lakes limited their southward range, 
And in these later days but few remain ; 
Some remnants still by Fundy's lonely bay. 
In furthest precincts of Maine's wilderness, 
And round the Hudson Bay, yet range the wilds. 
The forests dense and willow-tangled swamps. 
In those far regions were their native haunts. 
Where their great length of limb might serve them 

well 
To reach the twigs of maple or of birch, 
Or crop aquatic plants by sedgy shore. 
In Summer-time the moose frequents the swamp. 
Or low grounds near the marge of brook or lake. 
Loving to wade far out the ice-cold wave. 
Feeding on broad-leav'd plants that float the stream. 
And there the lurking Indian finds his prey. 
But when the Winter snows o'erspread the earth. 
The moose-gangs seek the shelter of the woods, 
Cropping the clinging mosses of the trees. 
Browsing the tender saplings and the buds. 

149 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

In the bleak North, where March winds sweep the 

waste, 
And the deep snows are crusted o'er with ice. 
Hunters, with knapsack and the rifle-gun, 
The thick woods penetrate and build their camp. 
They seek the moose-yard trodden in the drifts. 
And in each early morn, ere yet the sun 
Had softened the thin crusts that glaze the snow, 
They send their hounds across the crystal track. 
And borne on snowshoes follow hard behind. 
When the fierce dogs assail on every side. 
The frightened moose-herds, dashing in escape. 
But quick their hoofs break thro' the brittle plain. 
And helpless stand the animals at bay. 
While all the yelping packs the herd surround. 
And the unsparing balls the struggles end. 



HUNTING THE MOOSE. 

To hunt the moose-herd calls for rare display. 

Of highest qualities of Indian life ; 

Endurance, caution, keenness of the sight. 

Knowledge of woodcraft in the forest chase. 

Are all more needful to secure the game. 

Than daring heart, or deadly rifle aim. 

Far in the West, the Indians, in "moose-drive," 

Wage cruel slaughter with the death-doom'd prey; 

And ere each raid a grand moose-dance is held. 

With feasts to celebrate the wild foray. 

Then when October colors all the woods, 

The savage camps march forth with all their train. 

For then moose herds have left their woodland 

haunts 
To seek their mates across the grassy plain. 
Then in some chosen place, where moose abound. 
Men form a cordon-ring of ample space, 
And with loud cries and beat of hollow drum. 
They drive the herds to some surrounded place ; 
Fierce, with sharp spear and feather'd shaft they 

slay, 

'5° 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The captive herds and various forest game ; 
And if some grizzly bear becomes their spoil * 
They rend the air with triumphant acclaim. 
At other times men hide in mountain pass, 
Or path that leads to where cool rivulets meet. 
While others to this gorge or pass of death 
Drive the doom'd herds whence there is no retreat. 
At times, when all the male moose champions 

come. 
In desperate, duel conflicts they engage. 
So fierce are they in wooings and in fight. 
So fill'd with furious ire and jealous rage, 
That scarce they pause to browse upon the fare. 
And fail in strength — so he that stalk'd, a king. 
Thro' the September forest, proud of mien. 
Now in November's but a craven thing ! 
A weakly, half-starv'd, enervated wretch, 
That now would scarcely combat with a cur. 
But sulks and mopes in some secluded lair. 
Moose in Atlantic States and Canada. 
Are fast forsaking their choice haunts of old. 
But now seek refuge past the Rocky Mounts, 
Idaho, and Alaska's regions cold. 
The Indians tell that in some Western wilds. 
From ancient homes have vanish'd the great 

game. 
They fled to forest recesses afar. 
Since to all haunts destroying white men came, 
The red men oft with pitfall and with trap, 
Capture the herds, but chief they lie in wait, 
Hid in some bushy ambush by a stream. 
And there the thirsty moose herds meet their fate. 




151 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



LOGGERS AND HUNTERS. 

In the grand forest-realms of Maine, 
Aroostock wilds and Moosehead Lake, 
Amid the gloomy pines they dwell, 
Their rustic logging camps they make. 
Far thro' Canadian wilderness 
With axe and saw invade the waste, 
Thro' cedar swamps and hemlock press. 
The towering woods to devastate ; 
And Adirondack groves of oak 
Ring with their shots, and axes' stroke. 

By lakelet lone, and bush-girt pond. 
They pitch the camp in Autumn time. 
Now felling the majestic fir, 
And now the trunks of spruce sublime : 
But ever have they pastimes rare, 
By river bank and rushing stream, 
Casting the line for springing trout, 
Or where the leaping salmon gleam. 

But more intense the woodmen's joy. 
To wait and watch where Caribou 
Wallow and wade in forest bath ; 
Where lotus and white lilies grew ; 
For there the rifle's deadly aim 
Would immolate the forest game. 

But when the Winter snows lie deep 
And frosty drifts the plains outspread. 
And crackles the encrusted ice 
Beneath the moose-hoof's crushing tread 
When all the yarded herds collect, 
Tramping high hillocks of the snows. 
Feeding on bark and juicy buds. 
Unconscious of surrounding foes. 
Then hunters, on their snow-shoes light. 
Forsaking sleds and logging team. 
Assemble at that place of doom. 
And with the volleying death-shots slay 
The helpless victims brought to bay. 
Then redden'd are the snows with gore, 

152 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The slaughter'd herd fall thick around, 
In vain the mad rush to escape, 
In vain the frantic leap and bound! 



THE CANADIAN VOYAGEUR AND HUNTER. 

In the old Canadian forests, 

Woods primeval, dim and grand, 
From the realm of lake and river. 

The backwoodsman's chosen land 
Comes the stalwart voyageur, 

Chanting songs of ancient France, 
Songs, his warlike ancestors 

Sang when wielding sword and lance. 
In that far Canadian country, 

By the river's glassy wave. 
Stands the hamlet of his people. 

Home and field, the church and grave. 
Singing, dancing merrily ; 

But the music and the dances. 
Could not woo the voyageur. 

Lure him from his hunting pastimes. 
From his peltries and his fur ; 

O'er the swift, tumultuous river. 
Lakes far-stretching, lakes sublime. 

Have his glancing paddles answer'd 
To the merry boatsman's chime. 
He hath cross'd the Indian country 

Floated down Missouri's tide. 
Where Nebraska pours its billow, 

Where the swift Platte currents glide ; 
With the Osage and the Pawnee, 

Winnebago and Sioux, 
He hath floated, he hath hunted. 

Rioting with savage crew. 
With their life of savage freedom. 

With their careless merriment. 
He hath ever been enchanted. 

Living in their wigwam tent. 
He hath chosen for the bridal 



153 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Some brown daughter of the chief, 
Maiden charming with her blushes, 

Warlike with her arrow-sheaf. 
Clad in garment of the buckskin, 

Fring'd and ornamented o'er, 
Girdled with a sash of crimson. 

That his knife and hatchet bore. 
With his rifle at his shoulder. 

He would forth to wood and plain. 
And the crashing of his weapon. 

Would proclaim a victim slain. 
O'er the burn'd and blacken'd prairies. 

Where the Indian fires had been, 
In the foot-tracks of the bison 

He would follow fast and keen : 
Follow the great brown moose-herds 

Clattering fast with cloven hoof ; 
And the grizzly bear affrighted 

From his chase would keep aloof. 
By the forks of some great river, 

He would build his lodge afar, 
Ready for the hunt or revel, 

For the feast or for the war. 
Happy in that Indian country. 

Loving all the savage waj's. 
He would pass his prime of manhood. 

To the ending of his days. 



THE FAR WEST. 
Westward, in fancy's mystic dream, we pass. 
Where Mississippi rolls its mighty tide, 
" Father of Waters." swift, majestic, grand. 
Pressing its onward march to meet the sea. 
Thro' the great valley, garden of the world, 
From Alleghany peaks that hem the East. 
To distant Rocky Mountains of the West, 
Thousands of tributary streams converge 
To swell, parent river, thy broad tide ; 
Such other valley, with its affluent soil 
Exists not on this vast, terrestrial globe ! 

'54 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



On o'er the plains, the illimitable plains ! 
TrapperS and hunters old. whose rugged lives 
Have pass'd, amid those boundless, prairie realms, 
Amid wild buffaloes and Indian tribes, 
Pronounce that name with reverential awe; 
It calls to mind remembrance of rough scenes. 
Of famines, feastings. battles and escapes ; 
So travelers now look o'er those seas of grass 
As if to note those savage, whooping bands 
With feather'd plume, and rattling spear and shield, 
Sweep o'er the wastes and raise their war-whoop 

v/ild. 
While howi'd the wolf, and sped the antler'd deer 
And elk and antelope the pastures rang'd. 
The plains are passed — the parch'd and sun- 

scorch'd plains ! 
And now we gaze on Rocky Mountain scenes ; 
Here 'mid the solitude of Nature's sleep, 
Rough, rocky peaks rise to a dizzy height, 
Their bases with a sombre foliage clad. 
Which upward dwindles into thorny shrubs, 
Ending in naked rock and snow-capped peak ; 
How wild and desolate its Winter scene ! 
Then pendent crystals hang from frowning ledge. 
The gloomy forest bends 'neath mantle white. 
While high up 'mid the crags (where shines the sun 
Cheerless and cold o'er all the frozen world). 
The howling storm is laden with the snows 
That sweep like fleecy mist the summits bleak, 
To sink in drifts behind those granite walls. 
Grand here the view from some high-soaring cliff, 
O'er the vast plain extended far away! 
Rivers and streams thro' rolling prairies wind. 
Sparkling in light, like silvery ribbons spread ; 
Fring'd with dark timber-belts and terrac'd rows 
Of bluffs, that upward reach to elevated plains. 
Plains that roll off like ocean billows, sown 
With flowery blooms, unshaded by a tree. 



155 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



MORNING, NOON AND NIGHT. 

Far up the Mississippi's Northern land. 

'Mid the primeval forests grand and wild, 

Itaska lake in placid beauty smiles 

With mighty soaring cliffs around it piled : 

It is the crystal source whose currents glide 

To swell the Mississippi's downward tide. 

The waters here are crystaline in flow 

Studded with verdant islands, in whose shades 

'Tis sweet to ramble in the dim arcades, 

Shady at eve and bright in midday glow. 

There o'er the limpid waves the wild fowls sweep. 

The snow-white swan, the mallard and the teal. 

Where the grim wolf and deer flit o'er the plain. 

Or from their leafy coverts cautious steal. 

At morn the hunter view'd the stag and elk. 

Cropping the grass while dewdrops wet their sides, 

With graceful smoke curl'd from the Indian camps 

Or Indians launched canoes across the tides ; 

It was a lovely morn that lit the scene. 

Shining o'er waters and the forests green. 

A noontide panorama fair to view! 

No breath of breezes stirring o'er the space 

The grass o'er level prairies motionless. 

The song birds chanting in each sylvan place. 

The deer had paused to taste the running stream. 

On a dead branch a great bald eagle stood. 

Then spread his pinions soaring up the skies. 

His keen eyes glancing over stream and wood. 

Gay butterflies and wild bees flew o'er flowers. 

And peace and silence reigned in earth and air. 

As if boon nature offered up a prayer ; 

While far away the Mississippi's surge. 

Faded away beyound the horizon's verge. 

Sudden, anon, the landscape faded fast. 

As the sun set, bright clouds streamed o'er the 

skies. 
Decked in their gorgeous pencilings of light ; 
And bright the evening star did then arise 
The setting sun in twilight bathed the founts. 



156 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



His last beams shining over vales and mounts, 

The moon ascended to her regal throne, 

And thro' the groves was heard no wildbird tone 

The doe and fawn to grassy couch had gone, 

The bird, the breeze, the wave had ceased a trill, 

A mantle of sweet silence hush'd each hill, 

As midnight spread its shadow o'er the earth : 

The moon sank down, the stars illum'd the sky. 

Each voice was in the Indian's wigwam hush'd. 

Warriors asleep dream'd of their victories. 

At times a wailing breeze thro' forest gush'd. 

An owl was hooting in the hollow tree. 

The only sounds, the splash of leaping trout, 

Or howl of wolf in predatory scout. 

A universal calm was in the air. 

No earthly plaint or human sigh was there. 



A HUNTING SCENE AMONG THE ROCKIES. 

Stretched on the sward, beside a mountain lake 

I view a scene delightful to the eye. 

Gazing, fresh beauties grace the lovely scene. 

The tranquil lake, without a ripple's curl. 

It sweeps away to distant rocky cliffs 

That hem the snow fields, end in Giant peak ; 

Its shores are circled by unbroken chain 

Of somber pine woods, and the jutting points 

Of wooded spaces, thick with willows fring'd. 

Seclusion reigns here with its wondrous charms. 

And yet the loneliness oppresses not. 

For dumb friends break the scene's monotony ; 

Where busy beaver labors at his dam. 

Or swimming furrows the pellucid lake : 

The deer comes down to taste the limpid wave. 

And wary others creep along the shore, 

A flight of wild geese from some Northern realm 

Drop on the wave, and with a sudden plash 

Startle the beavers and the blue wing'd teal 

That have been circling, diving in the bay. 

Night closes round, so forth to camp I hie. 

And as I cross the open upland stretch, 

157 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Dark forms of deer and elk flit thro' the gloom. 

Or grizzly bears bent on nocturnal raid. 

The outline of far peak is landmark clear, 

The guiding north star leadsme through the woods. 

Across steep gulches, and by yawning depths 

Of canyons — safe as beaten trail. 

Those somber woods so silent, seen afar, 

Now as I enter are alive with sound ; 

A wapiti emits his plaintive cry, 

Standing at gaze, then leaps in headlong flight, 

A dusky owl repeats his weirdly hoot ; 

But the wild realm of nature hath no sound 

So savage as the lion puma's wail ; 

You shudder as it echoes thro' the dusk. 

A sound so like a piteous human cry, 

Fiercer than coyote's shriek, hyena's howl ! 

Our camp beheld from dim recess of shade 

Bathed with bright light has picturesque effect . 

Nought there to hint of civilized life. 

No tent, no couch, no luxuries displayed. 

Only a hunter's camp, and slaughtered game. 

No scene more lovely to a hunter's gaze. 

The world no brighter paradise displays. 



THE BLACK BEAR {Ursus Americams.) 

The great black bear hath wide-extended range 

O'er every region in these banded States ; 
In North, in South, in East and Western realms. 

It feeds, it prowls, in Winter hibernates. 
He that would hunt their numbers infinite 

Must cross Missouri, scale the Rocky Mounts. 
And riot there in sports beyond compare. 

Amid those craggy glooms and pouring founts 
For nowhere in the world is nobler game 
To crown his efforts with a hunter's fame. 
In all areas 'tween that mountain chain 

And the far waters of Pacific shore, 
All game indigenous to this Continent 

Abounds and ranges the wide region o'er. 
The grizzly, cinnamon and dusky bear, 

158 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Wolves, cougars, foxes and fleet-footed deer 
Are there to tempt the ardent hunter's search, 

To dare, to vanish from his bold career. 
He must evade the mountain fastnesses. 

Explore dense forests and far-spreading plains. 
The treeless plateaus and the caverns grim. 

For each a world of faunal life contains ; 
UnrivaI'd in their plenitude of game. 

Save in thick jungles of the India's land. 
Or sunless forests of the Afric world. 

Swept by great rivers, crown'd with mountains 
grand. 
The black bear is of sluggish, solitary mood, 

Prowls in the densest cloisters of each space. 
Dozing and sleeping at his slothful ease. 

Harmless to man and the wild creature race. 
Its food it seeks where shrubberies grow profuse. 

Wild berries, grapes and fruits of luscious taste ; 
Where trampled bush and leaf-stripp'd twigs betray 

The haunts of those grim creatures of the waste. 
Wild animals of size they ne'er attack, 

Save when by hungry torments they are press'd. 
Content on honies, and wild berries fare. 

Content to slumber in untroubled rest. 
In Southern States where they innumerous roam. 

In great plantations where they so abound, 
A bear-hunt is a gala festival. 

Pursued by mounted riders and the hounds. 
'Tis like a wolf-drive over Russian steppes. 

Or boar-hunt in the forests of Ardennes. 
Where the bold horsemen, arm'd with gun and 
spear. 

Surround their victims in the woods and fens. 
Great packs of hounds the hunters oft employ. 

Hounds lithe and active and of dauntless race, 
Endow'd with scent acute and tireless speed, 

Tracking and yelping in unerring chase. 
For. keen of scent, and watchful in the ear. 

The bear alarm 'd is wary of pursuit. 
And long ere hunter and the hounds draw near. 

It vanishes from sight on hurrying foot. 

159 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HUNTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR. 

Ursus Honbilis — the grizzly bear 

Hath range from Mexico to Canadian realm, 

From Rocky Mountains to Pacific seas, 

And ever will the mightiest foe o'erwhelm. 

Whether in forest or on granite height 

The conflict rages, the relentless fight, 

In size, in strength, ferocity supreme, 

It is the monarch of all animal life ; 

E'en man himself oft yieldeth to its sway. 

Shrinks from encounter in the fearful strife. 

Men claim the lion as the desert's king. 

Yet the great grizzly is the lion's peer. 

For grizzly, wounded, would its foe pursue, 

But leo hurt would pause in its career. 

He is the bear of mountain fastnesses. 

As the black bear has home in wood and plain, 

Yet oft the grizzly roams where food is found, 

Whether on shrubby plain, or wood-domain. 

'Tis denizen of all States in farthest West, 

It slays the bison by Montana's founts. 

Its muffled roar disturbs Nevada's wilds. 

Its sway prevails o'er the Wind-River mounts. 

Its home is made 'mid craggy cliffs and peaks. 

Where Mountain-goat and Big-horn sheep abide. 

And there in dark ravine and canyon grim 

They prowl they ravage, with their mighty stride. 

The eagle and the vulture wheel above. 

But no life else their domains may invade, 

Save when at times the daring hunter comes 

With deadly rifle and the bowie-blade. 

No fear of mortal art, or human power. 

Hath this grand monster in his wild retreat. 

For arm'd with fangs and claws like sabre keen. 

He dreads no valorous assaults to meet. 

Its taloned paw, its massive jaw will rend 

The lordly bison at one trenchant blow : 

And the swart Indian, with his shaft and spear. 

Shrinks from the presence of such dangerous foe, 

And yet no prouder trophy he may wear 



1 60 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Than necklace of the claws of grizzly bear. 

In winter's frozen time it hibernates, 

Yet then, at times, he roams the waste for food, 

Then wild with hunger, desperate in rage 

'Tis death to meet him in his savage mood ; 

For then with hoarse and drum-like roar he strides, 

With voice like giants of a fairy tale 

He makes the charge, and woe betide the man. 

Save for escape some tall tree may avail ; 

For the grand brute, with courage so sublime. 

May ne'er with clumsy limbs the branches climb ! 




t6t 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE FRONTIER HUNTER. 

By the river's reedy margin 

He hath met and slain the bear, 
And the brindled wolf is dying 

In his forest-girdled lair. 
Ere the sunset gilds the mountain, 

To his hut he turns again, 
And his panting steed is laden 

With the trophies of the slain. 
When the golden woods Autumnal. 

Glow with all their royal dyes. 
And the roseate flush of dawning 

Crimsons the celestial skies, 
Then thro' forests dim the hunter 

Follows far his manly toil, 
Grapples with the grizzly monster. 

Daring all things for the spoil. 
From his cabin in the mountain 

Forth he spurs on flying steed, 
Over prairies far extending. 

Grassy swamps and tangled weed 
Fast and far from dawn till evening. 

Fast and far he tracks the deer. 
Till the noble antler'd monarch 

Fails and falters in career. 
Ah, it is a royal pastime ! 

Ah. it is a gallant life ! 
Full of hardship, toil and peril. 

Stirring as a battle strife. 
He hath no delight in riches. 

No consuming thirst for gold ; 
He, the daring, stout frontiersman. 

He the hunter keen and bold. 




162 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE LAST BUFFALO. 



Last of his royal race ! 
He wanders lonely, o'er the trackless waste, 
Pausing the rolling river's tide to taste, 

In the broad desert space. 

Gone is that multitude. 
That rang'd the grassy, limitless domain. 
Cropping the sumptuous herbage of the plain, 

Their sweet, luxuriant food. 

Great monarch of the field! 
His shaggy head moved grandly at the front, 
Triumphant ever in the battle's front. 

Scorning to fly or yield. 

By Alleghany's chain. 
Where the gray summits of the mountains pile. 
In the green vales 'neath rocky Mount's defile. 

The bisons rang'd each plain. 

Years since, long-vanish'd years, 
These giant herds swept o'er the pastures wide. 
By Mississippi's shore, Missouri's tide. 

Speeding their grand careers. 

What terrors they had known ! 
When rag'd o'er prairies the consuming fire. 
When wood and plain, one vast funereal pyre. 

With grassy blaze were strown ! 

Swift the wild cattle fled, 
When flam'd afar red Conflagration's sword. 
Speeding to lakelet marge or river ford, 

In tumults dread. 

How frantic was their speed. 
When Indian tribesmen came with bloody hand. 
The Blackfoot warriors and the Sioux band, 

On galloping, desert steed ! 

How frantic was the race. 
While pitiless the whistling arrows sped. 
The lassos thrown, the spears with carnage red. 

In fierce, relentless chase! 

How terrible their lot, 



163 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



When the train'd soldier from some frontier post 
With deadly rifle charg'd the flying host 

With sabre and with shot! 

Those great herds pass'd away ! 
Like leaves autumnal scatter'd o'er the plains : 
Not a poor remnant of them here remains, 

In plain or forest-way. 

Crippled and daz'd, alone. 
Staggering and reeling, bleeding at each pore. 
Last of his race, a sovereign now no more, 

He gasps his dying moan ! 



THE ELK OR WAPITI (Cerms Canadensis). 

The elk, the noblest creature of the waste 

Since the Creation dawn has swept the wild. 
Ranging the wilderness and prairie plains. 

The forest regions — Nature's fleetest child. 
Where flowery grasses spread their spacious sheet. 

Roaming in upland meads and upland slopes. 
They cropped in freedom the luxurious feast. 

Swifter than deer or bounding antelopes. 
In long-past years, ere emigration pour'd 

The settlers, hunters, trappers o er the West. 
Beyond the Rocky Mountains was their home. 

Their haunts, their unmolested place of rest. 
They rang'd in countless herds Montana's realm, 

Wyoming, Utah and far Idaho, 
Columbia's wilds and Colorado parks. 

Ere came their persecuting white men foe. 
This royal ranger, with his lithe, strong frame. 

Its branching antlers, its supremest speed, 
Its proud, its graceful, its defiant mien. 

Its wondrous stride, defying racing steed. 
Was e'er superbest feature of the plain. 
Thrilling with ardor sportsman's heart and brain ! 
In Summer heats he is but thin and week. 

But Autumn finds him most robust in frame. 
Grac'd with full antlers, towering o'r his head. 

He roams the forest, grandest of all game ; 

164 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Majestic, ready, like a knight of old. 

To meet each rival that would dare the strife, 
He proudly stamps, and with defiance stares 

On any foe, save man, that threatens life. 
After each conquest, matchless is his pace 
O'er hill and dale and thro' the forest space ! 
He fears no combat with assailing beast, 

Save with the grizzly bear, so vast in size ; 
E'en the black bear, so cruel with his jaws. 

He grapples in the conflict till one dies ; 
He pierces it with antlers sharp and strong. 

And with mad charges gores it till it fail. 
Stamps the black carcass, gazing all around 

To note if other victim might assail 
Then, triumphant, stalks glorious from the fray. 

Slow vanishing in swamp or forest gray. 
But when an Indian taint infects the air. 

And the red tribemen fierce around him sweep. 
Spurring their frantic steeds in wide career. 

Swinging their lariats as they onward leap. 
Whooping their war-cries, while they poise the spear. 

And shoot the arrows from the bended bow. 
Then the great elks, with heads erected high. 

Stare for a moment on the yelling troop. 
And with consummate speed tumultuous fly. 




165 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ANTELOPE. 



Brave hunters of the boundless West, 

Path-openers to Pacific shore. 
Oft meet the bounding antelope 

Careering the vast prairies o'er; 
And oft the daring hunter bands, 

Far toiling thro' the Afric v/oods 
Met jaguars, blessboks, antelopes 

Amid those savage solitudes. 
Where sweeps th' immeasurable plain, 

O'er undulating pastures green. 
Or oft by rocky ridge and cliff. 

With dark ravine and chasms between, 
And where the waving, tender grass 

O'erspreads the mountain's lonely pass. 
The antelopes in browsing herds 

Innumerous, in wild freedom rove, 
Cropping the verdurous herbage sweet. 

Or budding shrubbery of the grove. 
So shy, that men almost in vain. 

May seek to ambush their retreat ; 
So swift, that nimblest steed may fail 

To o'er take the herds so wondrous fleet 
Yet stratagem and Indian wile 
The timorous game to death beguile. 
The savage, hidden 'neath some bush 

Whose leafy clumps the prairies dot. 
Shakes the green foliage and attracts 

The cheated prey within his shot ; 
And oft the warlike Shoshonee, 

Or Mandan hunters stark and grim. 
Circle the herds on coursers swift 

Fleet as the birds the air that skim. 
Then charging with impetuous speed. 

With brandished spear and bended bow. 
Sounding their fierce, terrific yell. 

They lay the panting victim low. 
The wild wolf of the wilderness 

Gaunt, gray and famishing 
With loping stride and creeping gait 

1 66 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Surrounds them in concentric ring. 
And with quick leap the quarry gains, 
Tearing with fangs their bleeding veins, 
Till scarcely there remains a bone, 
Uncrushed, amid the grasses strown. 



MULE-DEER (Canacus Macrotis), 

In the long-vanish'd years, this continent. 

So vast extended from the sea to sea, 

Water'd by rivers of majestic course. 

Encrown'd with mountains of sublimity — 

Shadow'd by forests of supreme extent. 

Inlaid with valleys rich with grasses green. 

The wild game fill'd the woods, the boundless plains. 

Their flocks, their herds enlivening each scene. 

But now from those old haunts they disappear. 

Though Indian shafts made little havoc there. 

Yet when the white-men settlers and the hunters 

came. 
Vast devastation thinn'd the wild game's lair. 
The herds of buffalo that rang'd the plains. 
The moose, the elk. the antelope, mule-deer. 
That brows'd the grass of prairies and the mounts. 
Hunted and slaughter'd. gradual disappear : 
So, too, the wild fowl and the birds of song 
No longer gather in such countless throng. 
The mule-deer roams a realm of vast areas. 
'Twixt Dakota, Nebraska and the Cascade Range. 
A deer of mountain heights and rough plateau. 
Yet haunt the pastures of the foot-hills low : 
Its favorite haunts are summits of the mounts. 
Where free from harm a life secure is found, 
Seeking their timber shelter in the day. 
But at the eve, frequenting open ground, 
Feeding on herbage that luxuriant grows. 
Kept sweet and tender by the melting snows. 
In such retreats where wolves may ne'er molest. 
They, watchful, scrutinize the rocky scene, 

167 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Though weak of sight their scent is most acute, 
Cautious forever of their foes' pursuit. 
He that would stalk them must in silence move, 
For their keen nostrils would a scent betray. 
Then quick to hear a faint sound would alarm, 
And swift in flight they vanish far away. 
Whistling, careering through the lonely woods, 
The female cries ; the snortings of the male 
Give life and animation to the scene, 
Pleasing to hunters on the eager trail ; 
And if fire-hunting in the glooms of night, 
He oftimes slays the stately stag and doe, 
For then attracted by lamp-blaze or torch, 
They fall an easy victim to the foe. 
Not oft in Far West are they chased by hounds. 
Due to the nature of their rocky home, 
Their way of dashing to the mountain peaks, 
Hiding in gulches where they safely roam. 
For there the scent is lost in stony ground. 
Defying the pursuit of baffled hound. 
'Tis best to hunt when early winter snows 
Force them to seek the foot-hills for their food, 
For then they fly not to the craggy steeps. 
Slow to forsake the coverts of the wood. 



MOUNTAIN-SHEEP HUNTING. 

These creatures wild have their lone haunts, 
Only in mountain regions of remotest West ; 
'Mid many-pointed crests of soaring mounts, 
These nimble rovers love to dwell and find 
Their dainty food in tender grassy growth: 
Free from all cares save hunters' daring quest. 
No game is of such difficult approach. 
For 'tis of keen scent, and vigilant. 
Watching the country from some airy height. 
He that would hunt them must be strong and brave 
For the pursuit must lead in savage scenes, 
Thro' stony grounds well nigh impassible. 
Whose towering altitudes and craggy steeps 
Make the ascent as rough as Alpine peaks, 

1 68 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Though its lone habitats are rugged hills, 
Yet it will thrive in less mountainous realms 
If there be rocky cliffs and dark ravines, 
Where it can refuge seek from ruthless foes. 
When the flocks migrate to some pastures new, 
There sentries scrutinize the regions round : 
If unalarmed the whole flock feeds at will. 
There to seek shelter 'mid the pines and firs. 
And shelves of rocks and sombre canyons deep. 
Where foes may not unseen invade the haunts. 

Whene'er their sentinels view sly approach 

Of dangerous object, they sound loud alarm; 

Then the whole column dash for loftiest ridge, 

And never pause in chasm and crag ; 

So when disturbed they show intensest fear. 

And dash for higher pinnacles and mounts. 

Vaulting from crag to crag, leaping o'er chasms, 

Plunging adown steep precipices. 

Nor pause until assured of safe retreat ; 

For their great horns are so elastic formed. 

That falling on them they can safe rebound. 

The lambs are dropped in early Spring-time months 
'Mid low foot-hills, and when the young grow strong. 
The dams work gradual in an upward course 
'Till they reach snow-line; there they all re- 
main, 
Feeding on succulent herbage of the place ; 
And linger there till lambs are fully grown. 
Then scour the hill-sides reveling in the sweets. 
The freedom of delights in mountain homes. 

The hunter's time to seek them is at morn, 

When the flocks feed or seek some water-course ; 

Then it is best to stalk or still-hunt up the wind, 

Seeking an ambush in eack rock and shrub. 

Creeping with noiseless step, for Big Horn ears 

Are keen as eyes, forever on alert; 

Far up, at windward recesses. 

Hidden in ambush by the sheltering rocks 

A portion of the hunters take their stand 

And slay the game as they go rushing past. 



169 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT. 

Few are the bold frontiersmen, 

Who come those mountain realms to dare. 
To chase the wild flocks of the cliff. 

Or grapple with the grizzly bear. 
Amid those savage solitudes, 

A desolate and drear domain, 
Where rocky ridge and granite peak, 

Majestic soar above the plain ; 
No tree may live, no plant may grow. 

No flower the rigid year survive. 
No browsing drove, no cropping herd, 

Among those barren pastures thrive. 
Only those climbing flocks abound. 
And brindled wolf and bear are found. 
The Mandan and the Shosonee, 

All armed for battle or the chase, 
Come with the rifle and the bow. 

Invading each wide mountain place ; 
They watch, they lurk in dark defile. 

Or where the splintered summits soar. 
And when the trophy horn is won 

Turn gladly to the plains once more. 
At times to such dim solitude 

Come trapper and frontiersman rude. 
And then for days the cliffs resound, 

With gun report and hunter's cheer, 
With baying of pursuing hound, 

And gallop down recesses drear; 
There, then, o'er granite ridge and peak. 

By gorge and gulch and mossy rock. 
The hunters clamber, plunge or cling. 

Pursuing the fleet mountain flock. 
And at each day-close, spent with toil 
Return home laden with the spoil. 



■^ 



170 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



COUGAR [FeUs Concola). 

The cougar, a fierce creature of the Rocky Mounts. 

Roams afar thro' forest wilderness ; 

With its shrill screamings thrills the very soul 

Of lonely wanderer in those sunless shades. 

Though not a dangerous foe till brought to bay, 

'Tis fearful terror on the forest-way. 

When startled on the ground, the cougar leaps 

For bushy thicket or for lofty tree, 

Whence on some branch its purring cries are heard. 

Fearful of men, it yet assaults the bear. 

Or brindled, howling wolf in lonely lair. 

The hunters oft' amid Sierra Mounts 

Pitch their lone camps within some green retreat, 

Before some crystal tarn, in valley hid. 

Gay with wild flowers, verdurous with tall grass, 

Where granite crags like sentinels arise. 

And tangled tropics weave shady screen. 

And here they oft the lurkii;g cougar meet, 

And slay the monster in his dense retreat. 

So secret, cautious, far from haunts of men, 

'Tis rarely met save in recesses green : 

But in the winter they forsake those haunts 

To prowl around the farmers' settlements. 

And on the sheep and cattle make sad raids. 

Cruel, they slay, yet scarce devour their prey, 

Killing in willful rage, though gorg'd with food ; 

And so sheep-raisers hunt them to the death. 

With rifle, strychnine, or avenging knife. 

The zealous hunters oft strew tempting bait. 

And hidden, wait the cougar's slow approach, 

There late at night they patiently lie hid. 

Where no sound breaks the stillness of the glooms, 

Save fitful hootings of the ghostly owl. 

Or plaintive call of the lonely whippoorwill. 

Or croak of frog, or the tree-locust's whirr. 

Where all is darkness save the firefly lamps. 

Illuminating all the shadows of the night. 

Nor vain his vigil — for the cougar's scream 

Is heard at last, and the swift bullet kills. 

171 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Other wild members of the feline race 
Roam thro' the regions of the far Southwest, 
But none save jaguar, so large and fierce. 
As this fierce cougar of the wilderness. 
The ocelot, eyre and the prowling lynx, 
Are all found south along Pacific coasts. 



GREAT GRAY WOLF {Cams Latrans). 

Wolves range innumerous the great Northwest. 

And chief of all those prowlers is the Gray; 

This monster finds in various realms a home. 

Now scouring in vast herds the level plains, 

Finding no shelter in that grassy space; 

Anon again they haunt the forest depths. 

Secure in mazes of the wilderness; 

Anon they haunt the soaring mountain crags. 

Or o'er the treeless plateaus range at will, 

Where bushy shelter is infrequent found, 

And there make burrows 'neath the clayey banks. 

Or choose a lair among the open cliffs. 

The White wolf seeks a Northern habitat. 

While further south the gray wolves find a haunt. 

While the Black wolf seeks southern Oregon, 

And all areas south of Rocky Mounts. 

Large, gaunt and fierce, it seems a dangerous foe. 

Yet 'tis a coward, ever prompt to flee. 

When strong in numbers the collected pack 

Will dread encounter with an Indian cur. 

And when o'ertaken they will pause and snarl 

And seek escape from, such inferior foe. 

When wolves, in droves, large animals pursue. 

Such as the bison or the bulky elk. 

They scatter in small flocks around the route 

The quarry takes, and so pull down their game. 

When a strong pack pursues a fleeing prey, 

The victims yield before such strength and speed. 

They constant follow herds of antelope. 

Or buffaloes, browsing the vast grassy plains. 

Prowling around them in their devious route. 

172 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



E'en in the wintry regions of the North, 
They prey insatiate on a lesser game, 
Badger and fox, the prairie dog and hare. 
And when with hunger stung, in wintry times 
They prowl ar4und the farmers' homes for spoil. 
Great is the sport to hunt those wolfish herds. 
With blast of horn and howling cries of hounds, 
And when the mounted Indian tribes pursue. 
They form a circle round the fleeing pack 
And to a centre drive them to their death. 
So vast the numbers of these savage wolves. 
So vast the hunting grounds o'er treeless plains 
That in the future years the grand wolf-hunt. 
Must prove the noblest pastime of the chase. 



PRAIRIE WOLF, OR COYOTE {Canis Lorans). 

The howling serenades, the yelping screams, 
Of the wild coyotes of the boundless plains 
Are heard from Canada to Mexic realms, 
From Northern mount to Southern hot domains. 
Prowling at night, their dismal outcries warn 
The settlers, that no Indian foes are near; 
But when these cease, frontiersmen take alarm, 
And arm to meet the tribesmen's fierce career. 
Wide o'er Columbian plains their packs abound. 
Beyond the Cascade Range ; for there are spread 
Free feasts of sage hare and the badger game. 
And thick on shores are strewn the salmon dead. 
Timid, they fly at near approach of man 
And from the deer-hounds in their keen pursuit, 
From Indian mustangs, when the savage tribes 
Cast the long lariat, or their arrows shoot. 
Those riders, in their headlong spurt of speed, 
Stirr'd by the flute-like music of the hound, 
May soon o'ertake them, but there's dangerous fall 
When the swift horse may trip o'er rocky ground 
In hole of prairie dog or squirrel mound. 
White hunters, ranging the broad prairie plains. 
Pitching the camp at foot of mountain height, 

173 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Are charm'd 'mid scenes where Nature reigns su- 
preme, 
'Mid the great forests and by streamlets bright. 
They gaze o'er vales whose breaths of sweetest air 
Blow o'er grass billows on from crest to crest, 
Or made soft sighing through the willow bush, 
Whose leaflets were by gliding streams carest ; 
Where voices of the night fill'd all the plain — 
The night hawk, flitting on its dusky wings, 
And the weird baying of the coyote packs. 
Now far, now near, in fitful murmurings. 
Slow pass'd the night ; anon the gates of dawn 
Swept back and the young day came dancing out. 
And far o'er mountain peaks the breeze dispers'd 
The silvery mist-wreaths in dissolving rout ; 
Abroad came creatures of the earth and air. 
And all was life and motion o'er the earth ; 
Yet, far below, green valleys were asleep : 
No light had touch'd, no breeze the foliage stirr'd. 
The brook slipt on in shadow, without sound. 
Nor yet was heard the song of early bird. 
From some green slope a solitary cliff 
Rear'd its proud crest above the valleys low. 
While on horizon a long, glimmering file 
Of craggy peaks and silvery summits glow. 
All bath'd in purple tints and roseate hues, 
The hues that Sierra Madre soft suffuse ! 
Here groups of scarlet cacti-blossoms gleam'd, 
'Neath mesquit bushes, each a flaming ball. 
While waxen flowerets, coral or deep red, 
Bloom'd 'neath the clusters of amolias tall. 
Years since, one Winter day, we join'd a group 
Of hunters mustered on a wolf-hunt raid ; 
Thro' deep-heap'd snows our sledges plow'd their 

way. 
O'er open prairies, or thro' bushy glade. 
In circling, narrowing rings our hunters press'd. 
Beating loud drum and sounding horn and trump : 
Then, all concentrated in one open vale. 
We drove the game from grass and thicket-clump. 
Then hounds were loos'd to massacre the prey 

174 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



For rifles were forbid in such close fray ; 

So, then, we slew with axe and club and spear, 

The captur'd wolves, the foxes and the deer. 



AFRICAN HUNTERS AND EXPLORERS. 

Brave men from distant. European land, 

Explorers seeking sources of the Nile, 
Have zealously pierced each boundless wilderness. 

Scaled mountain summits, dashed thro' dark 
defile ; 
They marched thro' sunless deserts where the sands 

Heaped their white dunes like billows of the main: 
They traversed deserts where great caravans 

Toiled o'er the herbless waste, the arid plain ; 
They penetrated glooms of forests wild. 

Pressed thro' morasses, pestilential swamps. 
And by Nyanza's unexplored expanse. 

Pitched on its grassy banks their midnight 
camps. 

They sought at Albert Lake a needful rest. 

Where sweet mimosas and palmyras grew, 
Resting luxurious 'neath acacia shades. 

Where tropic plants their brilliant blossoms 
strew. 
There journeyed fearless Clapperton and Grant, 

Burton and Baker. Du Chaillu and Park, 
Brave Gordon Gumming and grand Livingstone, 

Saved by our Stanley in those regions dark : 
These fearless, hostile native tribes they met. 

Who ruthless all their venturous paths waylaid. 
Hovering around their guarded camps at night. 

Wielding the assagai and bloody blade. 
Amid great storms of hurricane and rain, 

Tormented by malarious disease. 
Hungry and thirsting still they journeyed on, 

Enjoying rest beneath great forest trees. 
In boundless plains they sought the roving herds. 

The gnu, the antelope, the tawnj' deer, 
They slew the lion amid ravines grim, 

175 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Leopard and panther, in their fierce career ; 
The fleeing blesbok and the pallah wild, 

And oft rhinoceros by stagnant pool. 
The giraffe or unwieldly elephant 

Or quagga bathing in some fountain pool. 

Dark frowned the woods upon their dangerous way ! 

Where Nature spread a desolate expanse, 
Where riotous, broad rivers barr d their route, 

In wilds where sunbeam never cast a glance. 
So dense the shades in those primeval woods 

That scarce they caught the beam of day ; 
No flowery dells, no meadews fresh and green 

No grassy turf with its perennial bloom 
To charm the sight and sanctify the scene ! 

Yet onward still in perilous advance, 
Fearless of savage beast or lurking foes, 

These brave invaders of the wilderness 
Press'd on triumphant to the journey's close I 



WILD GAME OF AFRICA. 

Far had intrepid Stanley urg'd his way. 
O'er arid deserts, over grassy plains, 
Struggling thro' tangled, pestilential swamps. 
Where venemous serpents coil'd their spotted folds. 
Crossing the White Nile and the Congo's breadth. 
Tumultuous streams, along whose reedy banks 
Huge crocodiles up threw their scaly snouts. 
The black rhinoceros wallow'd in the tide. 
Hippopotamus roH'd his dusky bulk, 
And the great elephant, swinging high his trunk. 
With flapping ears, resorted there to drink ; 
All creatures of the wild swarm'd round his way, 
Quaggas and pallahs. antelope and gnu, 
The tusked boar, the tall giraffe, whose head 
Stretch'd high to crop the sweet acacia leaves, 
The striped zebra and the dusk harte-beest. 
The nimble spring-bok. dark with tawny hide. 
All trampled there to lap the rushing wave 
And lave in tropic heats their panting sides. 

176 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



In his brave path he skirted craggy cHffs, 

Ruvenzori's Mount, a mountain world! 

Ridge over ridge, peak soaring over peak. 

Caverns, dark ravines, jutting cones. 

High o'er some knoll his eye o'erlooked the scene. 

Panorama grand, a paradise of green ! 

Beneath, broad valleys stretch'd their verdurous 

space, 
Lac'd with the sparkling stream or purple lake, 
Shadow'd by palm tree or primeval oak. 
Far in blue distance swept a boundless range 
Of rolling mountains, vitrified like waves ; 
Not one bare spot nor arid dune of sand 
To mar the glory of this lovely land ! 

Oft by some darkling stream, at dead of night. 

In bushy ambush, 'mid papyrus reeds. 

The daring hunter, with his rifle-gun. 

Would with a throbbing heart await the game. 

Anon some roving deer would meet its fate, 

Anon a lion, scenting taint of blood, 

'Would come with shaggy mane and monstrous 

head 
To seize his prey — himself a victim, too : 
Anon a heavy tread would crush the ground. 
When twigs would crack, trees topple as he came ; 
Anon his giant bulk be dimly .seen, 
Anon his twisting trunk would dip the wave. 
And spouted fountains lave his heated flanks. 
Then would the rifle pour its blazing death, 
And huge leviathan would sink in gore ! 

Here was the hunter's paradise of sport. 
Endless successes 'gainst the noble game ! 
Wondrous his triumphs, and great perils past. 
Lent thrill'd excitement to the hero's heart. 
He knew the perilous crisis of the hour. 
Knew that his life he ventur'd on the cast, 
Knew that false aim would goad each monster on. 
Then cruel death would be his certain fate ! 
Yet still he lived — his happy lot to save 
Devoted Livingstone from Afric grave! 



177 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HUNTING THE AFRICAN OSTRICH. 

Near the equator, the fierce tribes 

From wattled hut and herdsman's kraal. 
Gather on fleetest steed to hunt 

The stately ostrich on its trail. 
They note its track on desert sand. 

They hear its guttural, hollow cry — 
A cry like lion's distant roar, 

A warning, as they haste to fly. 
The riders spur on striding steed, 

While footmen sweep in circles round, 
Swinging the slender assagaie. 

Eager the victims to surround. 

By some clear fountain in the waste. 
Shaded by palm-trees' leafy screen, 

The ostrich makes its secret haunt 

Where spring the water grasses green ; 

To browse on grass in such retreat 
They taste at will the waters sweet. 

The mounted tribes, at dawn of day. 

With slackened pace the prey pursue, 
As the colossal bird speeds on, 

Slow-follow'd, yet not lost to view. 
Outstripping the pursuing foe. 

They pause at times around to glance. 
As if defying the pursuit, 

They stand awaiting the advance. 
Anon on rapid flight they speed. 

Oft pausing in the swift career. 
While with a gradual approach 

The tribemen move with brandish'd spear. 

So, while the heat is not intense. 
The ostrich shows superior speed. 

But as the noonday heats prevail. 
Fatigued, it yields to swifter steed. 

And then the hunters, spurring fast, 
Rush in and seize the prey at last. 

The tribesman with stragetic art. 

Disguised with feathers like the game. 



178 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Deceiving the unwary bird, 

Destroy it with the arrow's aim. 
They imitate with cunning skill, 

Seeming to browse on grass the while. 
Then when in bow-shot of the game, 

They slay the victims of their guile. 
Oftimes the ostrich male will chase 

This strange deceiver of his race ; 
Who drops disguise and flees amain, 

Detected culprit in the chase. 
Beauty and youth in lordly hall. 

Where diamonds flash and rubies shine. 
Delight to wear the ostrich plumes. 

On brows where sparkling wreaths entwine. 
The pearls, the gems are fair to see. 

But none more fair than tiara 
That once the hapless ostrich wore. 

In Afric regions, far away. 



HUNTING THE GIRAFFE. 

In Central Africa the giraffe tribes 
Have chosen haunts o'er all the grassy plains, 
And 'mid the forest glooms they love to roam. 
Timid in danger, at approach of men 
Spurring their panting horses in mad race. 
They speed away in frantic gallopings. 
Defying the swift steed and native spear. 
A British hunter in that forest realm. 
Who first beheld this giant of the wilds. 
Gazed with amazement at its wondrous height. 
And, fired with sportsman's zeal, forgot all else. 
Pain and fatigue, and perils of the waste, 
In presence of such grand, stupendous game. 
They range in dense, impenetrable woods. 
Feeding on tropic plants of lavish bloom. 
Where the palmyras lift their verdurous crowns. 
And sweet mimosas and the mopant thrive. 
And where acacias wave their banners green, 
'Tis there the stately camelopards dwell. 
Secure in refuges of sylvan shades. 

179 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Oft where the open plains extend their space, 

They mix with herds of blessbok and the gnu. 

The pallahs. quaggas and fleet antelope ; 

And when the tribal savages pursue, 

They lead the flight of th' escaping game. 

Oft they forsake the shehering depths of groves 

To browse on shrubberies that fringe the plains. 

And here the hunters, with their native scouts, 

Surround in circles the beleaguer'd game, 

They swing their rifles, while the brandish'd spears 

Of the swart tribesmen terrify the herds ; 

Then comes a general panic o'er the plains, 

A matchless speed — then gunshot and the death ! 

Peaceful and timid, ever prompt to fly. 

How strange the gait of this far-striding game ! 

With neck outstretch'd and head sway'd to and fro. 

They clumsily roll on with wondrous speed. 

Sweeping with mighty leaps o'er marsh and bog. 

Bursting through bushy coverts of the waste. 

Though quick to flee, yet oft, when brought to bay. 

They will with striking hoofs their foes o'erthrow. 

When a grim lion springs upon its back. 

Plunging its claws, and gnawmg the tall neck ; 

Then lion and giraffe, with life-blood dyed. 

Will sink to earth, expiring side by side! 




1 80 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HUNTING THE NJENA-GORILLA. 

In sunless forests, in dense thicket glades, 

The Afric wild beasts devasting roam. 
And here in fastness of dim wilderness 

The fierce gorilla makes his savage home. 
He is the king, the sovereign of the waste ; 

No living creature dare his haunts molest ; 
The gnu, the pallah and the hartebeest fly 

From his approach at coverts of his rest. 
E'en the grim lion turns aside in dread, 

The spotted leopard vanishes in fear. 
And the huge elephant mighty in his strength, 

Flies from such foe in hurricane career. 
The native kraalmen of those tangled wilds. 

Ne'er dared to meet this terror of the woods. 
Vain were their arrows and their assegais. 

Vain the assaults of swarming multitudes. 
Yet when brave hunters from the Northern shores 

Game with their deadlier weapons in the hand. 
The volleying shot, the fatal bullet flew, 

Then the fierce gorilla died, a victim grand ! 
A hunter tells how 'mid thick sugar-canes. 

He first beheld the spoor of this great beast : 
Thrill'd high his heart to meet there face to face 

This monster of the forests, at his feast. 
Oft had he heard of this ferocious king. 

To civilized mankind so long unknown. 
So famed for cunning, courage and brute strength. 

A royal sovereign on his desert throne. 
Though bright the day, the hunter and his train 

Gharg'd thro' the brushwoods sombre with their 
shade. 
Sudden rose the gorilla's barking roar 

As the great beast sprang from a bushy glade. 
Sudden he paused, and fearless met his gaze, 

With brandished arms and bold erected head. 
With fiercely glaring eye and fiendish face, 

Like nightmare vision, filling heart with dread ! 

Frantic he beat with claws his tawny breast, 
i8i 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



That like a muffled drum resounded loud, 
Then a sharp bark: and then a hollow roar, 

Like rolling thunder from a temptest cloud. 
There as he stood his eyes flash 'd fiercest fire. 

The crested hair twitch'd o'er his sable brow 
His gnashing fangs gleamed terrible with ire, 

He seem'd like creature of a midnight dream, 
Half man, half beast, a hideous sprite of hell, 

Such as old painters pictur'd in their art. 
The shapes that in infernal regions dwell. 

When quick repeating his unearthly roar, 
The bullet sped, the monster's life was o'er! 



ROAR OF THE AFRICAN LION. 

This noble monarch of the Afric waste 

Meets with no rival to contest his reign, 

With his surpassing strength and agile stride 

He can o'ercome each creature of the plain. 

He dashes to the earth the tall giraffe 

Who towers above the summits of the woods; 

He tracks the herds of shaggy buffaloes, 

And slays the bull in solitudes ; 

He preys on nimble flocks of antelopes, 

The pallah, oryx, quagga and wild-beest. 

O'ertakes the blesbok in its swiftest flight, 

On zebra and the eland makes his feast. 

How grand, how thunderous his savage roar ! 

First he emits a dull, far-echoing moan 

That ends at times with faintly-whispered sighs, 

At other times he startles all the herds 

With deep-toned roar and wild, tempestuous cries 

That sudden sink away in muffled tone. 

Like distant thunder fading in the skies. 

His roar is loudest in cold, frosty nights 

When two troops meet beside a fountain's flow : 

Then each troop sounds a bold, defiant roar, 

Each seeking to out-roar the rival foe. 

Those grand, nocturnal concerts fill the waste 

With universal terror, yet they thrill, 

With transport the brave hunter's fearless heart, 

182 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Who lies there close ambush'd, resolute to kill : 
A hunter in the glooms of forests hid, 
In the dead hour of midnight, all alone ; 
Ensconced in thicket at the fountain's edge. 
Listing the awful roar, or hollow moan. 
The lions roar incessant in the night. 
Their sighing moans beginning with the shades 
Of evening ; gather in the forest depths. 
Sounding their warnings in the dim arcades 
Thro' all the day they rest concealed in shade 
Of gloomy forests on some mountain side, 
Loving the jungles or the tangled grass 
In low-lying shelves or in the valleys wide; 
From thence they stalk, when ends the sunset glow. 
Intent on nightly prowl for wandering foe. 
Then in dark night their roar is full of ire, 
Their eyeballs glowing like two balls of fire. 



AFRICAN LION AND OTHER ANIMALS. 

Brave hunters from far European realms. 
Have wide explored the unknown Afric lands, 
Skirting great rivers, crossing mountain range. 
Seeking the source of nameless stream and lake. 
Where fired with sportsman ardor they pursued. 
The wild game denizens of wood and plain. 
The Afric natives arm'd with assagais. 
Would fail those agile creatures to destroy ; 
Too swift for them the gambols of the gnu. 
The onyx, hartebeest or the quagga herds, 
The blesbok. zebra, or the tall giraffe. 
Too fierce for their weak shafts the lion-king. 
The tapirs huge, arm'd with their ivory tusks. 
The hippos, panthers, or the elephant, 
The rhinoceros or the buffalo ; 
But those white strangers from the foreign land, 
Arm'd with their deadly rifles would outmatch 
The fiercest monsters of the Afric land. 
Those brave explorers with a valorous zeal 
The lion-monarch of the wilds would meet, 

183 



HAUNTS CF WILD GAME. 



Would lie in ambush for his shaggy form, 
Dashing thro' wastes, or lapping some clear stream. 
Those hunters found in many a grassy glade 
The trampled couch where he had made retreat ; 
They sought him at the base of mountain crags, 
Or in dim vistas of the cork-tree grooves, 
In woods with mosses and gray lichens draped, 
'Mid tangled festoons of lianas green, 
Engarlanded with gray ochilla weed ; 
And o'er the undulating plains would seek, 
The lordly lion, frantic in career. 
There in broad day the lion stands at bay 
Watching with rage that strange, assailing band. 
Then shortly turns, and leisurely stalks away. 
Then with swift leaps he like a greyhound flies, 
— Too late, too late for quick the bullet strikes ! 
The hunters tell that once they pitch'd their camp 
In a green valley of the Kandely, 
A picturesque and most enchanting spot. 
An open glade fring'd with the cotton-woods. 
Where in its midst meandered a clear brook. 
On one side stood a red-haired antelope. 
Near a baobab, gazing at the band, 
While gnus and tesbees watch'd them in alarm. 
Some careless fed, while some in anger gaz'd. 
Anon a big white rhinoceros pass'd. 
With sauntering gait, unmindful of the camp ; 
. Dark-visaged buffaloes group'd beneath the trees. 
And all seem'd quiet, and no panic reign'd. 
When sudden with a bound and savage roar, 
A shaggy lion sprang amid the group ; 
Then instant came confusion in the place, 
As all the creatures struggled to escape 
— When quick a death-shot laid the lion low! 



* 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



WHITE POLAR BEAR. 

In the far North where Arctic vigors reign 
Man penetrates with awe the dreary scene, 
Lured by weird glooms of the sunless year. 
In silences of solitudes serene. 
Like a vast ocean, waveless, frigid, white. 
Faint-lighted by the crescent moonbeams' glance, 
Or by blue streams of auroral light, 
The land stretch'd endless in its dim expanse. 
There was no light or warmth to cheer the waste. 
While the faint radiance of moon or star 
Ting'd like a stormy sunset the deep snows. 
Causing a mirage floating high and far. 
Lamented Franklin here explorings made. 
And with his seamen perish'd in the snow, 
Where Hall. Kane, Peary, Greeley, gallant men. 
Sought the North Pole far as mankind could go ! 

There 'mid grand icebergs slipping from the cliffs 

Or on the drifting floes that chok'd the tide, 

Gigantic Polar bears, so grim and gaunt. 

In solitary majesty abide. 

Their haunt is some vast cave with icy walls, 

Where bright stalactics glisten overhead. 

And pendent icicles drop splinter'd points. 

Like pearly spars in grottoes overspread, 

They live secluded thro' inclement year. 

All undisturb'd by step of human foe. 

Save when at times, arm'd with the deadly lance. 

Invading their retreats comes Esquimaux. 

At times when whale-ships anchor by the shore. 

And seamen cut the blubber from the whale. 

The prowling bear-herds gather to the feast, 

And with wild rush the mariners assail. 

Little of life across these wastes is seen. 
Save where the gull and auk go screaming by, 
Or duck or loon or white-wing'd ptarmigan 
Startle the silence with discordant cry, 
Or musk ox or the walrus by the shore 
For finny spoil the frozen space explore. 



i8S 



CAMPS AND CAMPING. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE HUNTERS' CAMP. 

Here on the craggy ridges and gray peaks 

The hunters gazed far o'er the outspread land ; 
Far in the blue horizon rose the cones 

And splinter'd pinnacles, supremely grand ; 
Beneath, great rivers dwindled into brooks. 

And swept bright courses thro' the valleys green, 
Fring'd by thick groves of cottonwood and oak, 

Engirdling lakes transparent and serene ; 
Fair that broad scene when sunset skies are red 

Illuminating forests, plains and streams, 
Beauteous when night is sprinkled with its stars. 

When showering moonlight casts its tremulous 
beams. 
Ye may have journey'd wide o'er foreign realms, 

Have trod the streets of Paris and of Rome, 
Gaz'd on the Jungfrau and the snowy Alps, 

On Parthenon ruins and St. Peter's dome. 
Have roam'd the lovely valleys of the Loire, 

Have sail'd the Rhine, the Danube and the Nile, 
The Thames, the Shannon, Caledonian Tweed, 

Watch 'd the new day o'er Scottish mountains 
smile. 
Smile on Ben Nevis and gray Benvenue, 
Loch Katrine's mirror, Lomond's waters blue ; 
Yetne'erperhapsye've view'd the wondrous scenes, 

O'er all your native country widely spread. 
Ne'er gazed on Pike's Peak or Nevada range, 

Each blooming valley and each mountain-head; 
Ne'er seen Niagara, or Missouri's tide. 
Or roamed where Mississippi currents glide. 
Ne'er visited our streams, our forests grand. 
Our lakes, or wonders of the prairie land. 
The hunters' camp! Ah, 'tis not solitude 
To be with Nature in her grand domain ; 
Ye and your brethren, far from human crowd. 
Gazing on mount and forest, plain and glen ; 
The electric lights of cities are afar. 
No din of traffic, and no railway jar 
Disturb your lives ; ye have the sparkling gleams 

i88 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Of stars and moonshine, with their radiant beams : 
The songs of birds, the only sounds ye hear. 
Or plaint of leaves, the hymns of waters clear ; 
Richer the joys of stream and forest-way. 
Than Saratoga, Long Branch or Cape May. 
At morn throw wide the tent-fly and pass out, 

How balmy, then, how sweet the liberal air! 
You view the outlines of remotest hills, 

Touch'd in the East by colorings rich and rare ! 
Then bird-songs swell athwart the mountain slopes, 

A jocund orchestra, with chorus sweet ; 
The dawning light fills all the bosom'd vale, 

Flooding with blaze each pastoral retreat; 
The new light prints on earth a morning kiss. 
The floating clouds are fring'd with lustrous lines. 
The green trees fluttering, greet the new-born day. 
The wild flowers twinkle with the pearly dews ; 
All Nature smiles a welcome to the eye. 
In woods, in valleys, in the arching sky. 



THE ANGLER IN CAMP. 

We cheerfully sit in our camp when the eve 

Drops its dim shades over forest and stream, 
And reflectingly muse in this region remote, 

Pleased with the sound of the wave and its 
gleam. 
We think of far homes with their bustle and din. 

We scarce realize that there the dark cares. 
Commotions, distresses, ever prevail. 

That ever disturb their great thoroughfares ! 
Ah, the joy of the sportsman ! Methinks more and 
more 

The people appreciate all its delights ; 
They feel that it yields an increase of health, 

It charmeth the days, it brightens the nights. 
More and more will the sons of traffic and trade 

Be attracted to haunts where Nature doth reign. 
Will be weaned from the false dissipations of life 

To enjoy the free sports of river and plain. 
So, too, will the angler's, the hunter's, great field 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Be enlarged, as the sports more popular grow, 
And protection and increase of fishes and game 

Will encourage the sport with high born and low. 
Good fishing will then be found nearer home. 

And so, tastes once formed fair places remote 
Will be sought, and frequente'l year after year, 

And far-away streams become places of note. 
Then fish as game fish, that now are unknown, 

Will come into note, be recorded as game ; 
The carp and the shad will rise to the fly. 

And the grayling augment the angler's fame ; 
Then will supply forever increase. 

And the love for the angling never will cease. 
Ye that have had experience with rod 

Need not be told now of Nature's fair scenes. 
Of the unbroken lines of grand forest trees, 

Of the shadows that sleep on the breast of the 
lake. 
And their depths that witness festivities. 

The joy of taking the bright fish is great, 
But greater the joy of gazing around. 

To glance at the woodlands and waters free. 
Hear the songs of the birds, the torrent's sound, 

And all the pleasures that Nature doth yield 
To the lover of sport in Turf, Farm and Field. 

'Tis good to look up. reflecting on Nature's God, 
To note all His wondrous works of majesty 

Wrought in heavens above and earth beneath. 
And in the watery depths of the sea. 

For he that loves sport loves Nature, too — 
The skies, and the earth, and the ocean blue. 




190 



HAUNTS OF WILD CAME. 



MUSING AT AN ADIRONDACK LAKE. 

Alone at night ! The river black below. 

Dark banks in front, the murky woods around. 

The hollow roar of rushing waterfall, 

The hoot of owl, the wolf packs distant sound. 

All make a scene of deepest solitude ; 

Man is so far off, God so grandly near ; 

The wilderness is one great tongue that speaks 

The human hearts in accents wondrous clear. 

Not in the desert solitudes of space 

Not o'er the seas do we so realize 

The Presence that pervades the loneliness, 

For here the forest temples round us rise 

And hearts expand in all this wilderness. 

A Sabbath day ! The skies are robed in gold 

With purple hues fringed with a pearly sheet : 

The lake sleeps breathless, not a leaf is stirred. 

Viewing the scenes repose I thought how sweet 

The sanctity of Sabbath in the mind. 

That finds a sympathy in vast universe 

For on this kind day Nature's pulse seems stillec 

The waters ripple with a calmer course 

The forests rustle with a gentler grace, 

Birds seem to chant with sweeter melodies. 

A perfect calm pervades the human heart, 

And Nature purifies the earth and skies. 

By Tupper Lake the trapper finds his spoil. 

The muskrat holds the busy beaver's home. 

Where that shrewd architect builds his dam. 

With tender saplings, a surmounting dome. 

There, too, he traps the fisher and the mink, 

The furry otter, sables, a rich prize 

Where, too, the hunter drives the dappled deer 

Hunts him thro' forests as he frantic flies. 

Then seeks escape by swimming river-tide. 

Pursued by hounds, tormented till he dies! 

Here. too. the wild ducks haunt the open lake. 

The speckled loons their dismal hootings sound. 

Great eagles o'er the mountain summits soar, 

The wide-wing'd herons skim the waters round ; 

The anglers here their spotted victims take 

By flowmg stream or o'er the Tupper Lake. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



IN CAMP AT SARANAC LAKE. 

Solitude reigns supreme — silence fills my heart 1 

High in the solemn heavens God seems near ; 
Far off the busy world seems far apart ! 

Here 1 abide, forgetting that far world — 
That anxious world — while 1 am happy here ; 

Here solitude teaches peace, that perfect rest, 
Where sweeps the wilderness in wild career. 

Sin, pride, ambition never enter here. 
May human breath ne'er taint this purest air. 

But free may forests spread and teach their pure 
True lessons of the freedom of the woods. 

The perfect liberty, the courage to endure. 
Here with long tassels soar majestic pines. 

The sombre hemlocks and the cedars green, 
Clinging to rocky ledge and granite crag ; 

Dense cones of spruce arise, a bowery screen. 
The beech, the birch, the streaked moose-wood 
grove, 

Rise like tall steeples as they upward soar ; 
A firmament of foliage high above. 

Ferns, mosses, vines, all forming a green floor. 
The landscape round is full of stirring life. 

The pendant foliage stirr'd by wandering breeze ; 
Woodpeckers clutching the rough maple bark, 

A sable raven floating o'er the trees ; 
Ground squirrels gambol o'er a mossy log. 

And far below the trout leap in the tide. 
Ducks rise with splash, herons spread their sail. 

Hawks, jays and eagles o'er the woodlands glide. 
There is a charm in every woodland sound, 
A perfect peace, with solitude profound ; 
There's not a jar the bosom to distress 
In this fair Eden of the wilderness. 
Ah, let all lovers of the wilderness. 

Lovers of Nature, now in league conspire 
To save from devastation these grand works ! 

Threatened by lawless bands with axe and fire ; 
Let these great forests spread their leafy arch 

To catch the falling rains, the dews, the snows, 

192 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



That the broad Hudson may maintain its tides, 

Fed by each tributary stream that flows, 
So that Fee Park, a national domain. 
Shall spread in grandeur over mount and plain ! 



THE WOODS AND WATERS OF MAINE. 

Far in sunset's mellow glory, far in daybreak's 

rosy bloom, 
Fring'd by ocean's stormy surges. beUed in by 

woods of gloom. 
Stretch thy sandy, rocky borders, smile thy shores 

in hill and plain : 
Flower-embroidered, ocean-girdled, green, fair 

shores of Maine ! 
Rivers of surpassing beauty from thy hemlock up- 
lands flow ; 
Androscoggin and Penobscot, Saco chilled with 

mountain snow. 
These from many a darkling ravine, as o'er mossy 

rocks they leap. 
Sparkling, bear their ice-cold tribute to the surges 

of the deep. 
Bays are thine as heaven transparent, starr'd and 

gem'd with countless isles ; 
Quoddy with its emerald inlets, Casco with its dim- 
pled smiles. 
O'er them swift the coasting schooners, stately 

ships their wings expand. 
While the smoke-flag of the steamer waves its 

cloudy, vapory streamer, 
Sailing o'er the frothy billow for some European 

land. 
Moosehead Lake in girdling forest spreads afar its 

azure breast. 
Lonely, solitary, silent, slumbering in a drowsy 

rest ; 
Silent, save when o'er the waters, fring'd with 

pine tree and with fir, 

193 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Roars the thrashing winter tempest, or the summer 
breezes stir. 

Years ago, in native Maine land, sought I the deep 
forest shades, 

Wandering far, a musing student, in your bowery 
arcades. 

Shadowy woods of classic Brunswick ! how re- 
poseful to recline 

Underneath the sombre hemlocks, or the towering, 
plumy pine ! 

College friends were there — dear Longfellow, with 
the matchless poet's lyre ; 

Prentice, in the ofter years so famous for his ora- 
torio fire. 

Noble forests full of transport to the ardent sports- 
man's heart. 

With their pigeon-flocks and partridge flitting thro' 
each bushy haunt. 

There we view'd the Androscoggin flowing past its 
verdant shore. 

Lingering long by wood and meadow the fair bord- 
ers to explore ; 

View'd the crystal currents flowing, dashing, foamy 
to the strand : 

View'd the shining fishes darting, tempting spoil 
for angler's hand ; 

View'd the silvery sturgeon leaping, flashing o'er 
the river's brim. 

While the air was vocal ever with the tuneful song- 
bird's hymn ! 



" I will build me a camp by a cool mountain spring, 

Where the trout play at eve and the wood-thrushes sing ; 
I will roof it with bark ; and my snug sylvan house 
Shall be sweet wiih the fragrance of evergreen boughs." 

— Forest Runes. 



194 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



OUR CAMPS IN THE FAR WEST. 

Far have we journey'd over barren plains. 

Where only the wild sage-bush fills the way, 

Have pass'd Wind river and Shoshone realms. 

Fording great water-courses in the route ; 

Have gazed on peaks crown'd with eternal snow, 

Fremont and Teton soaring high in air, 

And here among the mountains pitch our camp. 

Have found wild game abundant in the way, 
Have slain the bighorn and the wapiti, 
Track'd the fierce grizzly to his rocky lair. 
Chased o'er the plains the rushing bison-herd. 
Follow'd the antelope in frantic chase. 
And ambush'd elk and deer in wild retreats. 

The Alpine scenery is rich with charms, 
Inlaid with lakelets lovely to behold ; 
Oft' o'er their space were seen the tufted-ducks 
And the wild geese alighting on the lake. 
Great herds of wapiti and uncouth moose. 
Wading knee-deep along the shallow shore. 

Deep are those lakes so crystal-clear, serene. 
Above the timber-line engirt with rocks, 
Hemm'd by Titanic boulders gray and rough. 
So clear are they, that from o'er-jutting cliff 
Your gaze may penetrate to deep abyss. 
While others shallow show their sandy bed. 

Some swarm with fish resplendent with their scales. 
While others yield no sign of living thing, 
No beaver-sign, no deer-track by the shore ; 
Yet grand the look of great mountain-tarns. 
Where whiteman's eye mayhap hath never gaz'd. 

Here on this happy-hunting-ground we rest. 
Where all sights are delightful to the sense : 
We view vast stretches of the blue-green pines. 
And deep-green beaver-meadows we have cross'd. 
Scenes well in contrast with the desert plains. 
There is a varied charm in this wild life 
So free, so independant- in its round! 

»95 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Emancipated from all cares of human-kind, 

Uncheck'd by chains of civilized life. 

Here you may roam as free as browsing deer, 

Here pitch your camp in liberty supreme, 

Find sports that charm the sportsman's gay career. 

The subtle joys to naturalist so dear ! 



BEYOND THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

In long past years the bold frontiersmen-bands. 
Hunters of deer and elk and bison herds. 
And trappers seeking their fur-bearing game, 
Traversed afar the Rocky Mountain range, 
So that they knew each canon and defile, 
Each lonely lake, each river of the land. 
Each great fur company held there their post. 
Where traders traffick'd with the Indian tribes, 
Eager for peltries and the bison robes. 
And ofttimes battling in a stormy fight. 

Those mountaineers would scale the steepest cliffs : 

A hardy race, extravagant of speech. 

In thought and deed regardless in their ways, 

Ready for bounteous feast or deadly fray. 

In vain the savages beset their way. 

In vain the rocks and torrents barred their route. 

Let but a trace of beaver meet the eye. 

He scorns all perils and defies all harm. 

He lov'd to roam the sternest fastnesses. 

He lov'd to pitch his camp in forest depths, 

But chief he lov'd to track the flowing stream. 

Taking the leaping salmon in their course ; 

And chief he lov'd the great Columbia's banks. 

And the Snake River's picturesque career. 

He pitch'd his tent at base of mountain slope. 
Whose tops were sheeted by eternal snows, 
Their white robes dropping in the Winter months 
Until they spread a mantle o'er the plains ; 
Great drifts that drove the browsing buffaloes 
To seek the river borders for their food. 
There to be slaughtered by relentless foes. 

196 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Those hunters roving by Nebraska's banks 
Were ofttimes ambushed by the warHke Crows, 
Grim foes, red-painted and array'd for war. 
Mounted on steeds decked out with trappings wild. 
Came prancing round them in most gallant style, 
Whirling in evolutions intricate. 
Waving the arms that sparkled in the fight. 
A picturesque and glittering cavalcade. 



CAMPS IN THE TIMBERLINE RANGE. 

Glorious it is to roam in this broad ridge. 
The main divide of this great continent ! 
Now catching glimpses of the southern slopes. 
Snow of flashing views of barren peaks. 
Views of Sierras Shoshone at north. 
Pleasant it was that region to exchange 
For timbered slopes of Big Wind river mounts! 
Here on this grand divide, three noble streams 
Take their headwaters on the mountain sides ; 
One, the Wind river, the confluent chief 
Of the Missouri, to the Atlantic flows ; 
Another streamlet joins Columbia's tides, 
Merging at last in North Pacific seas. 
While Colorado, third headwater sends 
Its tribute to the California gulf ; 
Such are the mazy creeks, the silvery streams 
That flow from forests in remotest course. 

Explorers found 'mid Colorado mounts 
Full many a pleasant refuge for their camps. 
Whose fair surroundings were a fresh delight. 
From some green swards so idly like in charms 
Rose straight and massive soaring cotton woods, 
With trunks of silvery sheen, while festoons green 
Of vines and creepers, twining garland like. 
Bound the tree tops, and a bowery shade, 
In front of camp would sweep a river broad. 
Its glossy face by twirling eddies swept. 
Where oft in deeps the limpid waters slept. 
Great salmon trout would hover 'neath the bank ; 

197 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



A perfect solitude ; with not a sound 

Of bird or animal the calm to break ; 

For wapiti and stately forest elk 

And big prong horn were far off on the mounts 

And grizzly bears were distant in their haunts. 

Here o'er this brilliant mass of verdure rose 

The grand titanic Taton, a vast mount, 

Up soaring miles away, yet seeming near. 

High thrusting its sharp peak above these groves : 

Clear was the air, deceptive in its light 

In these old camps what happy days were passed. 

What dreamless slumbers in the depth of night ! 

What social greetings by the campfire's blaze. 

There exploits were rehearsed and songs were 

suqg 
Beneath those shadows of primeval trees, 
Beneath the starry canopy of night, 
How joyous sped each gay eventful day ! 
As the camp fires illumed the woodland scene. 
Brightening the solemn shades, the arcades dim. 
They touched with lurid flames the hemlock 

boughs 
And brown, columnar phalanx of the pmes ; 
So fancy then with spectral ghost-like wand 
Would people all the shades with phantom shapes! 



198 



MISCELLANEA. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



LONG ISLAND BEACH. 

The gusty east wind blows amain, 

The fog banks settle o'er the watery plain ; 

Great clouds, like shadows, weigh upon the deep. 

Or fast, like battle frigate's sweep. 

'Til all the curling summits of the foam 

As whitely o'er the vapory seas they comb. 

Fade in the grey immensity of space, 

'Til billows in their never-ending race 

Are blotted from the sight. 

Fair blows the eastern breeze ! 
Instant the sunbeam glitters o'er the seas. 
Aside the hovering shadow drifts. 
Upward the vapory curtain lifts. 
Like routed files, like conquer'd ranks 
Of armies, broken on their flanks. 
And fleeing madly in retreat 
Before the pursuer's hurried feet. 
So fly the dark and rainy shades. 
As fast the shining light invades. 

Far as the gazing eye can strain 
The broad, the blue, illimitable main 
Stretches its vast eternal plain. 

To the horizon's edge ; 
Across its liquid hills and vales. 
Far travers'd by the ghostly sails. 
Across its foamy-crested waves 
That comb above the watery caves. 
Across the tumbling breakers tost 
O'er the low-lying reach of coast. 
O'er curving cove and limpid bay 
The bright, rejoicing sunbeams play 
And flush with soft and roeseate glow 

Old ocean's ebb and flow. 

Now sinks the sun behind the hills. 
Night with her glooms the landscape fills. 
Unseen the billows heave and break. 
Unseen the voyaging vessels take 
Their lonesome way in gloom profound 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Afar on lonely wanderings bound. 
Far to the west, Fire Island Light. 
A spark, gleams out upon the night ; 
Far to the east Montauk illumes 
With trembling ray the ocean glooms, 
While near the lanterns of Pon Quogue 
Brighten the ocean's hazy fog, 
'Til deep and dim o'er billow crests 
The mantle of the midnight rests. 



GREENWOOD LAKE. 

Fair lake, so picturesque in space. 

So famous in the anglers' art, 
In fancy 1 may pace thy shores. 

And treasure thy rare scenes in heart ; 
I picture thee with all thy isles. 

Fair inlets crown'd with foliage screen. 
Their borders fring'd with silvery sand, 

Embroider'd with the grasses green ; 
Where dense groves droop their tresses o'er. 

To dip them in the crystal wave, 
Where water lilies ope their cups, 

And the cardinal red flowerets lave. 
There song birds build their airy nests 

On chestnut branch and alder bush. 
Saluting with melodious hymns 

The blushing dawns, the twilight hush. 
Till sweeter echoings thrill the air, 

Entrancing all who listen there. 
Here, often in the vanished years. 

The brilliant Herbert lov'd to roam ; 
Lover of nature, here he sought 

Communion with her in her home ; 
Here lov'd with poet's eye to trace 
The natural beauties of the place ; 
Here lov'd in these dense groves to stand. 

And list the winds their sighs prolong 
Thro' the tall pines that shade the land ; 

Soft winds, sweet as melodious song 
Hymn'd by cathedral's tuneful choir. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Swelling their music thro' the shades, 
Charming the woodlands with their lyre. 

Thrilling the foliage in the glades, 
Soft-mingled with all sweet sounds heard, 
The lapse of brook, the song of bird. 
O'er thy calm face, O Greenwood Lake, 
How beauteous the mornings break! 
How fair the twilight shadows sail 
O'er woods and waters of the vale ! 
The anglers, freed from toil and care. 
From crash of city thoroughfare. 
From fret and fume of square and pier. 
Fainting in breezeless atmosphere. 
Delighted, gleeful, hither come. 
As children seek parental home ; 
And here, forgetful of the past. 
Elate with hope, their tackle cast. 
Years since, dear Herbert's ardent friends 

Hop'd here a noble shaft to place. 
Bearing the name of him who lov'd 

To wander over Greenwood space. 
And consecrate with loving rite. 

With song that thrill'd and speech that prais'd 
So one poor bard wrought native ode, 

But yet, alas! no shaft was rais'd. 




203 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



MOUNT TAHAWAS. 



Toiling, we reach'd a bare, gigantic cone, 

The lofty .summit of Tahawas Mount ; 

How grand the view spread limitless ! 

There far-up skies we reach'd the utmost height. 

The loftiest region in the Empire State, 

The centre of a chaos of great cliffs. 

How diverse from the mountain range of Alps ! 

Here rose no shining glaciers or snowy peaks. 

But all was gray or green to farthest view. 

It seems as if the Almighty had here set 

The vast earth rolling in tempestuous seas, 

And then in 'midst of its convulsive flow. 

Had bid the billows here congealing cease ; 

There they remain just as He froze the rocks. 

So grand and gloomy, in majestic height! 

Here swept long swells, and there were bursting 

waves, 
There, too, the deep and cavernous black gulfs. 

Far, far away, storm was raging fierce. 
While massive clouds o'er Vermont's distant hills 
Stood motionless, as balanced in the skies : 
Those far-off storms spread 'gainst the mountain 

range. 
With nought but savage scenery between ! 
How grand, mysterious, awful did it seem ! 
Mount Golden with its precipices steep ; 
Mount Mclntyre with black and barren head. 
White Face with bright spot gleaming on its face. 
And countless other summits pierced the air; 
Then, too, thick forests, boundless in extent, 
Green slopes and ridges, interspersed with lakes. 
Form'd wilderness, seamed here and there by 

streams 
Whose course was seen thro' gaps of lofty trees : 
Yes, there was beauty, grandeur in the scene ! 
Lake Champlain, with its islands stretched afar. 
And the Green Mountains tower'd along the east. 
Far up the north gleam'd out Saranac Lakes, 
And nearer lakes in quiet beauty shone ; 

204 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Great lakes— some dark with girdling mounts. 

And others flashing out in landscape wide. 

Like smiles relieving the vast solitude ! 

It seemed as if we saw sublimity and strength : 

Vagueness and terror are embodied here ! 

As if God wrought extremest power here. 

A mighty symbol of omnipotence ! 

And man is nothing here, a thing of nought! 



THE SUMMER EXODUS. 

Thrice happy, they, the darling sons of wealth 

To whom the boon is given to escape 

The city's granite walks, and roam afar. 

Our favorite journals, with their welcome sheet. 

Point out the regions whither they may speed ; 

Tell them of happiest places of resort. 

Where pallid cheek and broken health may seek 

New life, fresh vigor, and the glow of health : 

Tell them where breezes blow, and woodlands 

green. 
Bend their thick branches in refreshing shade : 
Woods that are vocal with their fluttering leaves. 
Woods so melodious with the songs of birds ; 
Great woods, like vast cathedrals, in whose domes 
And columned chapels, scarce a sunbeam falls : 
Secluded lanes where drooping willows grow. 
Where winding rills of ice-cold waters run, 
And murmuring tell where lurk the springing 

trout ; 
Tell them of fair resorts by Hudson's banks. 
Of Long Branch. Newport, Narragansett Pier, 
Of Martha's Vineyard and the Isle of Shoals. 
Of Greenwood Lake, of the blue Lake of Schroon. 
Of the Green Mountains and of Lake Champlain, 
Of Saratoga's grand, palatial halls. 
Of Old Point Comfort and the Chesapeake. 
Cape Ann and all its rocky solitudes ; 
The piny woods and rugged shores of Maine, 
The Lake George region and the Shawangunk. 
The Adirondack chain, the Catskill peaks, 

205 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The bowery shores of Jersey ; sandy dunes 

That fringe Long Island's far extended beach, 

So far outspread, where league-long billows roll ; 

Peconic Bay, and lovely Shelter Isle : 

And countless other Eden-like resorts. 

So rich with all their woods and waves and winds. 



FORESTS AND STREAMS. 

We sing of the forests, lonely and dim. 

In whose intricate depths no sunbeam may gleam; 
The wild Adirondacks. the woodlands of Maine, 

Whose glooms are sublime, whose grandeur su- 
preme ! 
For ages they stretch'd in boundless expanse, 

For ages they cast their foliage to earth ; 
They bloom'd in the Spring, in the Summers ma- 
tured. 

In the glory of Autumn their banners wav'd 
forth. 
The scarlet of maple, the oak's ruddy gold, 

The yellow of beech, the elm's tender dyes. 
Here close interwove their rainbow-like hues, 

Receiving all tints that illumine the skies. 
But, ah ! there were glooms in their umbrage pro- 
found ; 

Where the great solemn hemlocks their canopies 
wove, 
Where the pines and the spruces towered in air. 

And spread o'er the hills a primeval grove. 
In secluded, dim haunts the wild creatures rov'd; 

The gaunt, grizzly bears in caverns would hide, 
The moose and the caribou gather'd in herds. 

And the deer lept the rocks with marvelous 
stride. 
No pale-face hunters molested the game, 

No echoes of rifles alarmed the red deer ; 
The Indian alone would ravage the wilds. 

Assailing with primitive arrow and spear. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



But, ah, the wide streams, majestic and grand! 

No verse of the poet may sketch ye aright ; 
No brush of the artist, with palette and paint. 

May depict on the canvas your loveliness bright ! 
Methinks in a fanciful mood I may stand 

By the shore of some stream of ample expanse. 
And enchanted gaze on the rippling tides, 

The blue billows leaping in frolic dance. 
In restless tumult, in slumberous rest, 

There's ever for me a supreme delight ; 
For the woods and waters of Nature's realm 

Are glorified ever with fadeless light. 



cJjc^^<L .yCffoU^^ 



Jtc^_ 



207 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



••tul't.l'\,l'|,MS|Ml 



HAVNT5 OF 
WILD GAME 



Cover Design : Wm. E. Spader. 

Cover Plates : Becker Bros. 

Engravings : F. A, Ringler Co. 

Electrotypes : Chas. Hurst. 

Typography and Printing; Geo. H. Burnham & Co. 

Paper : Chas. T. Askew. 

Binding : Sterling Book Bindery. 

Agents ; American News Co. 



l'*\ilMtilMt|tStl'Sil 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



PUBLICATIONS. 



McLELLAN (IsaaO POEMS OF THE ROD AND 
GUN, WITH MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR.— 
271 pp. Sent post paid on receipt of $1.00. Henry 
Thorpe, 449 14th St., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

GAME BIRDS AT HOME, ($1.50); latest of the notable 
out-door books by Theo. S. Van Dyke. "One of the 
first authorities in the Sporting World. "^Boston Ga- 
zette. Fords, Howard & Hulbekt, Pub's., 47 E. loth 
St., New York. 

KINDNESS TO ANIMALS, a practical little book issued 
by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani- 
mals. It teaches how to properly care for dogs, cats, 
fowl, horses, birds and farmstock. Send four cents in 
stamps for a copy. Address : 

John P. Haines, President, 10 E. 22d St., New York. 

FRANK FORESTER'S FIELD SPORTS.— Embracing 
the game of North America, upland shooting, Bay 
shooting, wild sporting of the wilderness, forest, 
prairie and mountain sports ; bear hunting, turkey shoot- 
ing, etc. Fourteenth edition, revised and illustrated. 2 
vols., 8vo. Price $4.00. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

THE ART OF SHOOTING, a volume treating of every- 
thing of interest concerning the shot gun, by Charles 
Lancasier. a beautiful and practical book. Price, 
by mail, postage free, I3.00. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

SHOOTING ON THE WING.— Plain directions for 
acquiring the art of shooting on the -wing. With use- 
ful hints concerning all that relates to guns and shoot- 
ing, and particularly in regard to the art of loading so as to 
kill. To which has been added several valuable and hitherto 
secret recipes, of great practical importance to the sports- 
man. By An Old Gamekeeper. i2mo, cloth, 75 cents. 

A series of graduated lessons by which the self-taught 
young sportsman will be enabled to advance step by step 
from such easy marks as a sheet of paper nailed on a fence 
to the most difficult trap-shooting and the sharpest snap- 
shots. Charles Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

FRANK FORESTER'S AMERICAN GAME IN ITS 
SEASONS.— Fully illustrated and described. Elegant 
i2mo. vol. on laid tinted paper ; handsome extra cloth 
binding. Price $i 50. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



PUBLICATIONS. 



T 



HE AQUARIUM.— A quarterly magazine, devoted to 
practical natural history, aquarium and window 
gardening:. One Dollar a year. Sample copy free. 
Hugo Mulertt, Publisher, 

173 Nostrand Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y. 

FRANK FORESTER'S COMPLETE MANUAL for 
young sportsmen of fowling, fishing, and field sports. 
With directions for handling the gun, the rifle and the 
rod; art of shooting on the wing; the breaking, manage- 
ment, and hunting of the dog; the varieties of game; game, 
river, lake, and sea fishing, i vol., 8vo. Price $2. 
Chas. Barker Bradford. Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

THE BREECHLOADER.— By Gloan. Description, 
selection, manufacture, separation, loading, cleaning, 
shooting, etc. Price $1.25. 
Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 



G 



"UN, ROD, AND SADDLE.— Nearly fifty practical 
articles on subjects connected with fishing, shooting, 
racing, sporting, etc. Price $1. 
Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

F'RANK FORESTER'S HORSE OF AMERICA. By 
Henry W. Herbert — In two superb royal octavo 
volumes of 1300 pages, with steel engraved original 
portraits of thirty celebrated representative horses. This 
standard historical work has been thoroughly revised, 
newly written, compiled, and perfected by S. D. and B. G. 
Bruce. Price $15. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

WHAT TO DO IN CASE OF ACCIDENT.— i2mo, 
cloth, gilt title, 50 cents. Tells e.xactly what to do 
in case of accidents, such as severe cuts, sprains, 
dislocations, broken bones, burns with fire, scalds, burns 
with corrosive chemicals, sunstroke, suffocation by foul air, 
hanging, drowning, frost bite, fainting, stings, starvation, 
light niiig, poisons, accidents from machinery, and from the 
falling of scaffolding, gunshot wounds, etc., etc. It should 
be in every house, for young and old are liable to accident, 
and the directions given in this book might be the means 
of saving many a valuable life. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 



HAUNTS CF WILD GAME. 



HEALTH AND PLEASURE RESORTS. 

VIRGINIA— Warren White Sulphur Springs, the oldest 
summer resort in the United States ; established 1734. 
Good fishing, boating, bathing and hunting. Terms : 
Per week, one person, $15.00 ; per month, one person, 
$40,000; two persons in one room, $70.00. Special rates 
to parties of three or more. Eight different waters, name- 
ly : White, Red and Blue Sulphur, Alum, Iron, Arsenic, 
Chalybeate and Lithia. On top of the " Three Top Range" 
of the Masamitten chain of mountains. Elevation, 2,100 
feel above the sea. No mosquitoes, gnats or malaria. Dis- 
tance from Richmond & Danvill R. R. (Waterlick Station), 
one mile: Norfolk & Western R. R. (Riverton), three 
miles; Baltimore & Ohio R. R. (Middletovvn), four miles. 
For general information address C. W. Cullen & Sun, 
owners and proprietors, Cullen, Warren County, Virginia. 

BERKSHIRE HILLS SPECKLED TKOUT— Arbu- 
tus, Apple Blossoms and Azalias, with grand scenery 
and drives should decide you to visit Berkshire Inn. 
Caleb Ticknor & Son, Props., Gt. Barrington, Mass. 



c 



AMP BEMIS.— Rangeley Lakes. Maine. Terminus 
Rumford Falls and Rangeley Lakes R. R. The best 
of Sshing and hunting. 
Write for particulars to the proprietor, F. C. Barker. 

CALIFORNIA INVESTMENTS.- Choice city property 
and grain and fruit ranches Colony tracts, tine for 
hunting. Send stamp for catalogue. 

E. E. BuNCE, 1008 Broadway, Oakland, Cal. 



DENVER, COLORADO— The Brown Palace Hotel. 
A magnificent fireproof structure. European and 
American plans, $1.50 and $3.00 per day and up- 
ward 

GENEVA BEACH, ALEXANDRIA, MINN.— On a 
chain of twelve beautiful inland lakes. Famous for 
fishing and all small game. Write for pamphlets 
and maps free, to the proprietor. J. H. Letson. 

FISHING BANKS, Daily.— Sea Steamer Jas. B. Schuyler 
from E. 23d St.. New York, 7:15. Beekman St., 7:30, 
West 10th St., 8, Franklin St., 8:20. Fare, 75c. with 
bait. Ladies, 40c. J. W. Hanco.k. 

NANTUCKET ISLAND.— Thirty miles at sea. Home 
of the Bluefish, the gamiest of salt water fish. The 
Springfield is the best appointed and most popular 
hotel. Chas. H. Mowry, Proprietor, Nantucket, Mass. 

ONNECTICUT.— Crest View Sanitarium, Greenwich, 
Conn., for rest, recreation or treatment. Scenery and 
surroundings unsurpassed. 

H. M. Hitchcock, M. D. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HEALTH AND PLEASURE RESORTS. 



"'yHE AROOSTOOK WOODS" is a new volume on 
X the shooting, fishing, camping and canoeing of 
Aroostook County, Maine, and it is of interest to 
all lovers of woodcraft, landscape and natural history. It 
is written for old and young. There are 345 pages of true 
and natural narratives, gleaned from close observations 
from years ot life in camp. Well illustrated. Bound in cloih. 
Sent postage free on receipt of $1.00. Chas. C. West, 
Author, Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

IRELAND. — Renvyle House Hotel, Connemara County, 
Galway, 14 miles from Clifden. Sea bathing, fishing, 
shooting, golf and lawn tennis. Grand scenery 
Mrs. Blakk, Renvyle House Hotel, Fetterpark, Galway. 



H 



OTEL AMPERSAND, Saranac Lake, New York.— 
Most attractive hotel in the Adirondacks 

C. M. Eaton, Ampersand, New York. 

LORDSHIP PARK.— For sea-side Cottages. A pro- 
montory on the Connecticut coast extending into the 
sound a mile beyond all other head lands. A high 
blufi with a fine beach in front. T. C. Wordin, 

Bridgeport, Conn. 

MAINE.— MACHIAS LAKE CAMPS.— Machias stream 
and tributary waters, and Big Fish Lake and tribu- 
tary lakes and ponds aftord the best hunting and fish- 
and in the state. C. G. Reed, Prop'r, 

Machias Lake Camps, Ashland, Maine. 

AINE. — A popular hostelry in Maine's gameland. 
Cousins Hotel. We solicit your patronage. 

W. E. Smith. 



M 



V 



IRGINIA.— Old Point Comfort, the Hygeia Hotel; 
open all the year. The unrivale 1 Health and Pleasure 
Resort of the Atlantic Coast. F. N. Pike, Lessee. 



N 



EW JERSEY.— Atlantic City, the Shelburne ; every 
comtort ; open throughout the year. 

James D. Southwick, Manager. 



THE ADIRONDACKS.— The Ruisseaumont at Lake 
Placid. An ideal mountain resort. Address 

T. Edmund Krumbholz, Lake Placid, N. Y. 

ADIRONDACKS.— The Berkeley at Saranac Lake; all 
modern conveniences ; electric lights and bells, and 
open fire-places, etc. Send for circular. 

W. A. Denison, Saranac Lake, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HEALTH AND PLEASURE RESORTS. 



SUMMER COTTAGES TO LET.— Delightfully situated 
in beautiful " Casco Bay," looking upon the lovely 
harbor and city of Portland, Maine. Rents from $!oo 
to $400; all furnished. A. M. Smith, Portland, Me. 

F» G. HILLMAN, NEW BEDFORD, MASS.— Dealer 
. in Natural Science Specimens and Curiosities. Send 
for price-list. 

VALLEY OF THE DELAWARE.— High Falls Hotel. 
Good fishing ; bass and trout. Good hunting ; par- 
tridge, quail, woodcock, rabbit, and squirrel. Send 
for circular. Dr. Philip F. Fumer, 

Dingman's Ferry, Pike Co., Pa. 

THE WILLOWS, Farmington, Me.— Splendid in loca- 
tion and appointments. In the heart of the finest 
woodcock and partridge shooting in New England. 
Six hours by rail from Boston, five hours drive to the 
famous Rangeley Lakes. Pointers and setters always on 
hand for sale. Dogs boarded and trained ; satisfaction 
guaranteed or no charge. E. G. Gay, Proprietor. 

KAUVAHOORA HOTEL, Trenton Falls, N. Y.— Finest 
scenery and falls in the world. Total fall in three 
miles, 495 feet. Rate, $2.00 per day, $to.oo and $12.00 
per week. C. E. Moore, Prop. 

PARKSIDE. PA.— Pocono Mountains. Park House. 
Grand trout fishing one hundred miles from N. Y. and 
Phila. Si.x streams, Broadhead, Heller, Paradise, 
Cranberry, Timber Hill, Devil's Hole. W. C. Henry. 

PENNSYLVANIA.— Brookside Cottage, in the Pocono 
■*•' Mountains. A beautiful summer resort. Good hunting 
and fishing. Address D. M. Crane, 

Canadensis, Monroe County, Pa. 

FISHIN' JIMMY, a delightful little sketch of an old 
angling character, by Annie Trumbull Slossom. 
Beautifully bound in cloth : price, by mail, postage 
free, 65 cents. Chas. Barker Bradforo, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y, 

FRANK FORESTER'S FISH AND FISHING; one 
volume; richly illustrated; beautifully written and 
printed. Price $2.50. 
Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y, 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



DOGS. 



ENGLISH BEAGLE HOUNDS.— Winners at the lar- 
gest shows. Hunters, bred from hunters. Unbroken 
pedigrees. Also High Class Poultry. F. B. Zim- 
MER, "South End," Gloversville, N. Y. 

POINTERS, SETTERS AND HOUNDS. -Trained 
dogs. Brood Bitches and Puppies for sale. Prize 
winning dogs of the most popular breeding at stud. 
Geo, W. Lovell, Middleborough, Mass. 

PUPPY PHILOSOPHERS.— "Listening to the Argu- 
ment" and "Thinking it Over." This pair of tine 
Artoty pes, size 8.x i8in., mounted, on 22x28 e.xtra heavy 
plate paper will be sent postage paid on receipt of $2. Send 
for illustrated circular. W. T. Higbee, Cleveland, Ohio. 

TRISH SETTER PUPS FOR SALE, by Ch. Kildare. 
JL ch Duke Elcho, etc. Send for catalogue containing 
photos of our celebrated stud dogs and bitches. 

Address Oak Grove Kennels, Moodus, Conn. 

KING CH.ARLES and Ruby Spaniels from imported and 
prize winning stock. Shortest faced and longest eared 
specimens in America. Reuben, weight 10 pounds, at 
stud, fee |io. Grandly plumaged Peacocks for sale. 
Ruby Kennels, A. H. Gilmore, Ag't, Worcester, Mass. 

THE DOG. — By Dinks, Mahew, and Hutchinso.n. Com- 
piled and edited by Frank Forester. Containing 
lull instructions on all that relates to the breeding, 
rearing, breaking, kenneling, and conditioning of dogs ; 
with valuable recipes for the treatment of all diseases. 
Illustrated, i vol., 8vo ; price $3.00. 

Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

DISEASES OF DOGS: their pathology, diagnosis, and 
treatment. To which is added a complete dictionary 
of canme materia medica. Price 25 cents. 
Chas. Barker Bradfoko, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

KENNEL SECRETS— By Ashmont. Tells how to keep 
Dogs in good health and how to prepare them for the 
field and bench. Beautifully illustrated. Price $5.00. 
" Man's Friend, the Dog," by Geo. B. Tavlok ; tells how 
to keep a Dog in the city ; very practical ; price, 75 cents. 
Chas. Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 

TRISH AND ENGLISH SETTERS of the finest breeding 
X in the world of field and bench winning strains. Dogs 
at stud. F. H. Perry, 

(Claremont Kennels), Des Moines, Iowa. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SPECIMENS AND COLLECTIONS. 

FANTAIL GOLDFISH FOR SALE.— A fine lot of 
fantail gold fish from Japan ; price $6 per dozen, and 
paradise fish, $1.50 a pair. Alsoacquatic plants ; send 
two-cent stamp for price list. Schmid's Fish and Acqua- 
FiuM Depot, 712 Twelfth Street, N. W., Washington, D. C. 

SO.MG BI RDS, Talking Parrots. Pet Animals. Dogs and 
their Medicines, Glass Birds' Eyes, Gold Fish, Aqua- 
riums, Song Restorer, Brass Bird Cages, Sea Shells. 
S. H. Wilson's Big Bird Bazaar, Cleveland, O. 

FLORIDA— Pampas Grove, Greenland. P. O., Fla. 
Sacaline for game preserves, embankment, etc. X X 
Cannas, 5 seeds for 4 cts. Catalogue of rare bulbous 
plants free I Trained Pointers. Arnold Pvetz. 

GAME HEADS, BIRDS, etc.— Mounted true to nature 
and guaranteed against moth. Groups of birds, etc., 
made up to order at reasonable prices. 

John Clayton, Lincoln, Me. 

REX MAGNUS, THE FOOD PRESERVATIVE.— 
The old and reliable Sportsmen's Re.x Brand, for 
Preservation of Fish and Game. Sample pound, by 
mail, to any part ot the United States for 50 cents. 
The Hl'.miston Preservative Co., 

New Haven, Conn. 

WIND CAVE, BLACK HILLS, SOUTH DAKOTA.— 
The largest ana most wonderful cave in the world. 
The specimens are unknown to science and geology. 
For further particulars address : 

Katie Stabler, Wind Cave, South Dakota. 



FISH, GAME AND LIVE STOCK. 

QUAIL.- LIVE QUAIL FOR SALE. The only house 
in the U. S. handling large numbers. Orders by the 
thousand, dozen or less Game a specialty. Estab- 
lished 1838. E. B. Woodward, 174 Chambers St., N. Y. 

ILD GAME.— All kinds. Living and Mounted. Also 
Reptiles, Birds, Heads, Skins, Horns, Skeletons and 
all Curios and Relics. 

W. H. Root, Laramie, Wyoming, U. S. A. 



w 



CLOVERLEAF PHEASANTRIES AND BANTAM 
Yards contain elegant varieties of pheasants and 
bantams. Young and eggs for sale, from large col- 
lections. Address, L. Rottman, Benton, Ohio. 



L 



IVE CANADA HARES For Sale at $1.50 per pair. 
Delivered over E.\press. J . G. Rich, Bethel, Maine. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FIRE ARMS, AMMUNITION AND TOOLS. 

AMERICAN ARMS CO., 36 New St., East Boston, 
Mass. Manufacturers ot Superior Hammerless Shot 
Guns. The celebrated Single Semi- Hammerless Gun. 
The best Safety Hammerless Revolver. Send for list. 

NEW MODEL HAMMERLESS DOUBLE GUN; 
Ejector and Non-Ejector. The best gun on the mar- 
ket. Made by Forehand Arms Co., Worcesier, Mass. 
Enclose two cent stamp for catalogue. 

TOMLINSON SHOT-GUN CLEANER. — The only 
modern tool for removing lead and dirt from fine 
guns. Sent to any address on receipt of $1.00. 
C. ToMLiNSON, No. 108 Beacon St., Syracuse, N. Y. 



T 



OMAHAWKS.— Send one dollar, and get the prettiest, 
keen-cutting 8-oz. tomahawk you ever saw. 

CoLCLEssEK Bros., El Dorado, Penna. 

SHOT.— Drop, buck, and chilled. American Standard 
sizes. The James Robertson Manuf'g Co., 

Baltimore, Md. 

HAMMER, HAMMERLESS. Ejector or Single Trigger 
Game and Trap Guns. Combination ball and shot 
guns. Fifty-paged list free. 
Charles Lancaster, 

151 New Bond St., W., London, England. 



FISHING AND FISHING TACKLE. 



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IRIGO" Split Shot Trout Sinkers are the best. 
Smooth and evenly split. Send for circular. 

G. L. Bailey, Portland, Maine. 

FISHING IN AMERICAN WATERS.— By Genio C. 
Scott. New and revised edition, with .additional 

chapters on southern and miscellaneous fishes, etc., 
and poetical quotations by Isaac McLellan. Illustrated 
with more than 200 wood engravings. This book is the 
recognized standard authority for American anglers and 
fishermen, embracing coast and estuary fishing with rod 
and line. Fresh-water fishing with fly and bait; natural 
history of American fishes; lake and coast fish and fisheries; 
southern fishes and how angled for; cookery adapted to the 
resources of sportsmen in the wilderness or on the wave, 
etc. One volume, 539 pages, 208 engravings. Handsomely 
bound in extra cloth. Price $2.50. 

Chas, Barker Bradford, Publisher, 

487 Broadway, New York, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



CAMPS. 



MAINE. — Atkins' Camps on the head waters of Aroo- 
stook River. Address 

Wm. Atkins. Ox Bow, Aroostook Co., Me. 

MAINE.— West's Camps at St. Croi.x, in the Aroostook 
Woods. Address Chas. C. West, Houlton, Me. 

MAINE. — Debsconeag Camp. Address 
Jos. Francis, Norcross, Me. 

MAINE. — Darling's Camps at Nicatous Lake. Address 
J. Darling, Lowell, Me. 

MAINE. — Machias Lake Camps. Big game and trout. 
Address C. G. Reed, Ashland, Me. 

MAINE. — Tim Pond Camps, the popular hunting and 
fishing resort in the Dead River region. 

Julian K. Viles, Eustis, Me. 

M.i^INE. — East Carry Pond Camps. Fly fishing and big 
game hunting. Henry J. Lane, Bingham, Me. 

MAINE. — Kibby and Camp Jack. Ten lakes and ponds 
in the finest of fishing and hunting country. 

Otis R. Witham, Eustis, Me. 

MAINE. — Forest Camps, on Loon Lake. Best of hunt- 
and fishing. York & O.-mces, Rangeley, Me. 

MAINE.— Camp at Tuft's Pond. Address 
F. S. Blanchakd, Kingfield, Me. 

AINE. — Coburn's Camps, at Middle Dam. Address 
E. F. Coburn, Andover, Me. 



M 



MAINE. — Pine Point Camps, on Lake Webb. Address 
Wilder K. Chase, Di.xfield, Me. 

MAINE.— Deer Pond Camps. Address 
W. W. Dougl.'vss, Eustis, Me. 

MAINE. — Blakesley Camps, in the backwoods. Address 
W. S. Emery. Eustis, Me. 

MAINE. — The Seven Ponds, 27 miles from Rangeley. 
Address Ed. Grant, Beaver Pond, Me. 

MAINE. — Camp Saddle back, five miles from Rangeley. 
Great game country. A. L. Oaives, Rangeley, Me. 

MAINE. — Round Mountain Lake Camps. In the center 
of 24,000 acres of hunting and fishing ground. 

Edgar Smith, Eustis, Me. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



HUNTERS AND GUIDES. 



COLORADO.— C. M. Campbell & Chas. Smith, Buford, 
Col. White River, Northwestern Colorado, a para- 
dise for sportsmen. Deer, elk, bear, grouse and trout. 

WYOMING. — Mild Burke, Ten Sleep, Johnston 
County, Wyo., is prepared to take parties, large or 
small, to any part of the West, in any style desired. 



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YOMING. — Frank L. Peterson, Marysvale, Wyo. 
Hunting parties and tourists to the Yellowstone 
Park. Good hunting and tishing. 

YOMING.— S. A. Lawson, Laramie, Wyo. Elk, deer, 
Antelope and bear. Eleven years' experience. 



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YOMING.— S. N. Leek, Marysvale. Wyo. I know 
where the game is, at all seasons, and will guarantee 
to show it to sportsmen. No shots, no charge. 

YOMING.— Nelson Yarnall, Dubois, Wyo. Famil- 
iar with the mountain country to the south and east 
of Yellowstone National Park. 



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YOMING. — Ira Dodge, Cora, Wyo. Hunting parties 
and National Park excursionists cared for. Collector 
of wild animals. 



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YOMING.— James Fullerton, Ten Sleep, Wyo. Elk, 
sheep, deer, bear, lion, antelope, grouse and trout, 
all within 15 miles of my ranch. 

ONTANA.— James Blair, Magdalen, Mont. Hunting 
and tourist parties outfitted and guided. Correspon- 
dence solicited. 



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ONTANA.— M. P. Dunham, Lyon, Madison County, 
Mont. Twenty-four years' experience in the Rocky 
Mountains. 



IDAHO. — W. L. Winegar, Elgin, Fremont County, Idaho. 
Parties outfitted and conducted through the Rocky 
Mountains and the Yellowstone National Park. Big 
game of all kinds abundant. 

IDAHO.— Ed. H. Trafton, Hayden, Fremont County, 
Idaho. Hunter and guide for Teton basin, Jackson's 
Hole, and the National Park. In the heart of the big 
game country. 

IDAHO.— R. W. Rock, Lake P. C, Idaho. One of the 
best game ranges in the Northwest ; tine trout fishing 
within easy reach. 



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RITISH COLUMBIA.— W. Guttridge, Grand Forks. 
B. C. Parties guided to the best of hunting. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



CANADA. — Barker House, Fred. B. Coleman, pro- 
prietor. Queen Street, Frederickton, N. B., Canada. 
Most beautifully situated and the best in the city. 

NEW YORK.— M. S, Crannell, proprietor. River View 
Farm House, Stony Creek, N. Y. Good fishing, 
hunting and boating. 



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EW YORK.— The Wilber House. In the Catskills. 
Good hunting and trout fishing. 

R. R. Wilber, Lake Hill, N. Y. 

EW YORK.— Bald Mountain House. Third Lake, 
Fulton Chain. Good hunting and fishing. 

C. M. Barrett, proprietor, Old Forge, N. Y. 

NEW YORK.— Under-Cliff. A select Cottage resort- 
like a private club — in a beautiful park on the north- 
western shore of Lake Placid. Comfort, excellence 
and refinement. Address, Under-Cliff, Lake Placid, N. Y. 



FENTON HOUSE.— Thirty thousand acres of game pre- 
serve filled with deer, exclusively for guests. Numer- 
ous cottages, attractive surroundings. Best location for 
sportsmen and families in the Adirondacks. Address 

Charles Fenton, Number Four, Lewis Co., N. Y. 

VERMONT.— The Poplars on a Farm on Lake Cham- 
plain. Good fishing, hunting, boating. 
The Poplars, Mrs. F. S. Trimble, Chimney Point, Vermont. 

WISCONSIN. — Yellow, white, silver, and black bass, 
pickerel, perch and Mackinaw trcut. For partic- 
ulars, address 

Geo. a. Lougee, Park Hotel, Madison, Wis. 



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AINE. — Exchange Hotel, Ashland. 

E. G. Howard, prop. 



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AINE.— The Upper Dam for big trout. 

John Chadwick, Rangeley. 



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AINE. — Moosehead Inn, Greenville Junction. 

A. 11. Walker. 



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AINE. — Augusta House. A. W. Thayer, proprietor. 
Augusta, Me. 

AINE.— United States Hotel, Portland, Me. 

Foss & O'Connor Co., proprietors. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



MAINE. — Ledge House. 40,000 acres ol grand hunting 
territory. Harlow Bros., Dead River, Me. 

MAINE. — Lake House. Deer, pickerel and ducks. 
B. E. Hammond, Flagstaff, Me. 

MAINE. — Hinkley's. Great fishing and hunting local- 
ity. E. HiNKLEv, Rangeley, Me. 

MAINE. — Kingfield House. Great game region ; fine 
stream fishing. J. Willis Jordan, Kingfield, Me. 

MAINE. — Mountain View House. Great hunting and 
fishing. Kimball & Bowley, Rangeley, Me. 

MAINE. — Comfort Cottage. Pure mountain air, trout, 
etc. W. E. Millett, Phillips, Me. 

MAINE. — Carrabasset House, right in the fish and game 
region. J. P. Prescott, Carrabasset, Me. 

MAINE. — Kennebago Lake House. Fly fishing and big 
game hunting. Richardson Bros., Kennebago, Me. 

MAINE. — Rangeley Lake House on Rangeley Lake. 
John B. Marble, Rangeley, Me. 

MAINE. — Mooselookmeguntic House. Best of trout 
fishing. E. B. Whorff, Haines' Landing, Me. 

MAINE. — Echo Hotel. Fine trout fishing near bv. 
N. B. Welton. Etna,' Me. 

MAINE. — If you want trout and salmon, write for 
booklet. F. N. Beal, Phillips. Me. 

MAINE. — Greene's Farm House. Stream fishing and 
deer hunting. I. W. Greene, Coplin, Me. 

MAINE. — Pine Point Farm, near Farmington. An im- 
mensity of lake trout. W. D. Guild. Temple. Me. 

MAINE. — The New Searsport House. Searsport, Waldo 
County, Maine. Penobscot Bay. Wm. E Grinnell. 

MAINE. — Stoddard House. Near the three great fishing 
lakes, Varnum, Sweet's and Crystal. 

Will H. McDonald, Farmington, Me. 

MAINE. — Shaw House, Newport. Maine. For particu- 
lars and terms, apply to S. F. JiDKiNS, prop. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



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EW YORK.— Flowers' Cottage, Arkville, N. Y.; half 
a mile from the station; excellent fishing and driving ; 
terms, $6.00 and .'$7.00 a week. Edw. Flowers. 

NEW YORK,— Pleasant View Farm House. 90 miles 
out ; high, shady grounds ; large, airy rooms ; plenty 
fresh milk, eggs, fruit, vegetables from our garden ; 
near Upton Lake Park ; daily mail. Adults, $4.50 to $6. 
Mks. S. I. Jackson, 

Clinton Corners, Dutchess County, N. Y. 

A DIRONDACKS.— Taylor House and 15 Cottages on 
Schroon Lake, one of the finest locations in the 
Adirondacks ; pure spring water ; electric lights ; 
good fishing and hunting ; open from June i to Oct. i. For 
illustrated book, address C. F. Taylor & Son, 

P. O., Taylor's-on Schroon, N. Y. 

ADIRONDACK Lands for sale in large and small tracts, 
suitable for game preserves ; Hotel and cottage sites ; 
also furnished cottages. Geo. W. Clark, 

108 Fulton Street, New York. 

DIRONDACKS.— The Berkeley. Streeter & Deni- 
soN. All Comforts. Open year 'round. Saranac 
Lake, N. Y. 

THE ADIRONDACKS.-Childwold Park, reached easily 
by the new Adirondack and St. Lawrence Railroad. 
The Childwold Park House, overlooking beautiful 
Lake Massawepie. Trout and deer. 
W. F. Ingold, Manager; Boston office, 22 Pemberton Sq. 

COTTAGE Site Lots and Forest Lands for Preserves on 
Lake Titus and Mt. View Lake in the Adirondacks. 
For maps and description, apply to 

A. B. Parmei.ee & Son, Malone, N. Y. 

FOREST HOUSE, in the Adirondacks.— Best place for 
an outing. Good shooting and fishing. E.xcellent 
accommodations. A hearty welcome extended to you. 
W. E. Humes, Prop'r., Harrisville, N. Y. 

VIRGIN FOREST. — 1,600 acres of virgin forest in one 
body in the Catskills. A fishermen's paradise. Also 
lovely lake front near Hudson river. Grand oppor- 
tunity for club. Charles T. Coutant, Kingston, N. Y. 

THE SANITARIUM.— Union Springs, on Cayuga Lake, 
N. Y. An ideal place for health, rest or recreation. 
Excellent fishing and duck shooting. Baths, elec- 
tricity, massage. Airv rooms and generous table. Write 
for circular. Dr. Franklin D. Pierce, Prop'r. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



MOUNTAIN HOUSE, Eldred, Sullivan Co., N. Y.— 
Blackbass and trout fishing. 

THOUSAND ISLANDS, River St. Lawrence. The 
Hubbard House, Clayton, N. Y. Mrs. Eleanor M. 
Hubbard, Proprietress. Blackbass tishing. 

AINBOW LAKE INN, ADIRONDACKS.— The best 
hunting, boating and Sshmg in the Adirondacks. 
James M. Ward.ner, Proprittor, 

Rainbow, Franklin Co., N. Y. 



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LONG ISLAND. — Excellent duck, snipe, plover, rail and 
upland (hare, quail, squirrel, fo.x, etc.) shooting. Ex- 
perienced tenders. For particulars address, 
W. H. Robinson, E. Moriches, Long Island, N. Y. 



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UCKS, Brant, Quail and Rabbit.— Plenty of fine shoot- 
ing. Terms reasonable. Write for particulars. 
O. B. TuTHiLL, East Moriches, Long Island, N. Y. 



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UCK AND BRANT SHOOTING on the Great South 

Bay, Long Island, N. Y. Wiile for particulars. 
Frank C. Brown & Bro., Bayport, Long Island, N. Y. 

DIAMOND POINT, Canarsie Shore, Long Island, N. Y. 
— Private boats kept for the season ; sail and row 
boats to let ; fishing tackle, bait, etc. Sea bathing 
and fishing; fine bar. Garrett S. Braisied, Proprietor. 

SUMMER HOMES ON LONG ISLAND.— " Summer 
Homes," a book describing hotels and boarding houses 
on Long Island, free upon application at 113, 192, 950 
and 1313 Broadway, New York: at 333 Fulton St., Brooklyn 
Eagle Summer Bureau, and Flatbushi Ave. station, L. I. R. 
R., Brooklyn ; or send two (2) cents in stamps to 

H. M. Smith, Traffic Manager L. I. R. R., 

Long Island City, New York. 

CINCINNATI'S GRAND HOTEL.— Conducted on the 
American Plan, $3.00 per day and upwards. European 
Plan, ft. 50 per day and upwards. 

The A. G. CoRKE Hotkl Co., Proprietors. 
D. C. Shears, Vice-President and General Manager. 

THE WAYNE, Detroit, Mich— The most conveniently 
located Hotel in the city. First-class in every respect. 
Popular rates, $2.00 and I3.50 per day. J. R. Hayes, Prop. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



NEW JERSEY.— Thompson House, John I. THOMPSo^f, 
proprietor. Highlands, N. J. Among the many at- 
tractions of this historic and romantic town. High- 
lands, are unsurpassed surf and river bathing, boating, bass 
and weak-fish fishing and beautiful drives. 



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EW JERSEY. -Vortman House, at Kenvil. Several 
fine trcut streams ; Lake Hopatcong (black bass) 
three miles distant. Write for particulars. 

William Vortma.v, Proprietor. 



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EW JERSEY.— Bay View House on Barnegat Bay. 
Bluefish, weakfish, striped bass and bay snipe Ad- 
dress, J. H. BiKUSALL, Proprietor, Waretown, N. J. 

WEAKFISH at Sylvan Beach, Staten Island Sound.— 
Boats and shedder crabs always on hand. This is 
the old Rossville fishing ground. Good hotel ac 
comodation. Stages to and from all trains. Address, 

T. J. Sawvek, Jr., Carteret, N. J. 

STORMS' ISLAND HOTEL, Greenwood Lake, N. J.— 
Three minutes sail from Sterling Forest Depot. Sum- 
mer and transient boarding. Good fishing. 

Thos. S. Siokms, Prop. 

PENNSYLVANIA.— Paxinosa Inn, at Easton. Most 
attractively situated ; 1,000 feet above tide water, on 
crest ot Weygat Mountain of the Blue Ridge. Fishing 
and boating on the Delaware. Trolley to door. Two 
hours from New York. Orchestra and amusements. 

Neil & Avery, Proprietors. 

PENNSYLV.\NIA.— Lyons' Hotel, at Lanesboro. Good 
trout, bass and pickeiel fishing. Pure water, pure 
air, splendid scenery. J as. H. Lyons, Proprietor. 



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ASSACHUSETTS.— The Greylock, Berkshire Hills. 
For particulars address F. K. McLaughlin, 

Williamstown, Mass. 



C.\NADA, TORONTO.— The Queen's Hotel. Patron- 
ized by Royalty. McGaw & Winnett, Proprietors. 

MAINE.— Norcross House, foot of North Twin Lake, 73 
miles from Bangor. Guides and Canoes furnished. 
Beautiful Scenery. Game and Fish in abundance. 

W. R. STKArroN, Proprietor, Norcross, Maine. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



MAINE. — West's Camp at St. Croix. Deer, caribou, 
moose, trout, partridge and hare. Every comfort in 
the wilderness. For particulars address 

Charles C. West, Houlton, Maine. 



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AINE. — Good facilities for fishing, camping, boating, 
etc. Within fifteen minutes' walk of Maine Central 
R. R. Station. For full particulars inquire of 

L. L. Taylor, Lakeside, Me. 

MAINE. — Knowlton Soda Spring, South Strong, Maine. 
An objective point for hunters and fishermen. 
Knowlton Soda Spring Water cures dyspepsia, 
stomach, bowel, liver and kidney troubles, etc., etc. Write 
for pamphlet. J. B. Knowlto.v, South Strong, Maine. 



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AINE.— Roach River House, Roach River, Me. Moose- 
head Lake Region. A delightful resort for Tourist- 
Sportsmen and their families. 

John Morison, Prop.; F. L. Gibson, Manager. 



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AINE.— Sebois House, Patten, Me. Address G. Wil- 
liam Cooper for particulars. 



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HE MAINE COAST.— A six by nine inch finely illus- 
trated book for tourists and sportsmen, mailed for ten 
cents in stamps. H. W. Rankin. 

Kennebunkport, Me. 

THE CROW'S NEST.— Sandy Bay, Moosehead Lake 
via Greenville, Me , is the ideal resort for sportsmen ' 
and tourists. Good accommodations, excellent table, 
fishing and hunting. Fked. D. Bigney, Manager. 

ATTEAN CAMPS.— In the wilderness of Maine, where 
fish and game abound. Charming resort for sports- 
men and families. If you are looking for a good place, 
address J. T. McLAUGHLIN, Jackman, Maine. 

DEBSCONEAG CAMP.— Beautiful mountains and lakes. 
Moose, caribou, deer, bear, trout, lakers, pickerel, 
ducks and partridges. Write for particulars to the 
proprietor, Joseph Francis, Norcross, Me. 

LAKE VIEW INN.— Summer resort at the Outlet. 
Cobbossecontee Lake, Manchester, Maine. Board 
by the day or week at reasonable rates. Good Fish- 
ing and Hunting in Season. Address, 

H. D. Pinkham, Prop., Hallowell, Me. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



MAINE. — Darling's Camps, at Nicatous Lake, head of 
Passadumkeag River, Hancox Co. Grand trout fish- 
ing and big game and wing shooting. For partic- 
ulars, address J. Darling, Lowell, Maine. 

AINE. — Newton House, at Jackman, on Canadian 
Facitic Ry. S. Newton, Prop. Best place in the 
state for fish and game of all kinds. 

VERMONT. — For black bass, pickerel, muscallunge and 
pike, delightful scenery and climate, visit the original 
Hotel Champlain, Maquam Bay, Swanton, Vt. Every 
accommodation. Address C. F. Smith, Proprietor. 

WHITE MOUNTAINS.— The Altamonte, Bethlehem, 
New Hampshire. Best location and accomodations; 
moderate prices; open July i to October i. Address 
Altamonte, Bethlehem, N. H. 

PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.— Fur, fin and feather 
game in abundance. Grand wilderness. Fresh and 
salt water. Send for beautifully illustrated book, free. 
H. L. Hall, Hotel Acadia, Grand Tracadie, P. E. I. 



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HOMASVILLE, GA. — Piney woods Hotel. Every 
comfort, Wm. E. Davis, Mgr. 



COLORADO.— The Cliff House, Manitou Springs, Colo. 
Exceptional climate, scenery and general accomoda- 
tions. Send for illustrated booklet. 
E. E. Nichols, Prop.; E. E. Nichols, Jr., Manager. 

NORTH CAROLINA.— Bay birds, geese, swan, and 
duck can be found in great numbers in season. Board, 
$2.00 a day. Guides, wagons, boats, decoys, etc. 
furnished at reasonable rates. Reached by Virginia Back 
Railroad. Write for particulars. 

L. R. White, Currituck Beach, Corolla, N. C. 

NORTH CAROLINA.— The Mountains of North Caro- 
lina offer to the sportsman a summer of delight. 
Linville is high, airy and sunny, and Eseeola Inn is 
cosy and modern. J. T. Skiles, Proprietor. 

MINNESOTA. — Fair Haven House, Detroit, Minn. 
Open May ist to Oct. ist. The location is unsur- 
passed. Finest fishing and hunting in Minnesota. 
For rates, etc., address, E. McNeil, Proprietor. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



WISCONSIN.— Camp Assiniboine. Land-locked salmon, 
trout, brook-trout, muskalonge, pike, black bass, 
green bass, siscoe, deer, duck, and partridge. A 
great game region. For maps and general information 
address Bent Bros., proprietors. State Line, Wis. 



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ISCONSIN.— Camp Franklin Hotel on Trout Lake. 
Muskalonge and lake trout in abundance. Fifty 
wild lakes and streams. Also fur and feather game. 
C. J. Coon, Woodruff, Wis. 

WISCONSIN. — Minocqua. Situated in the center of 
the Great Tomahawk Lakes. If you want to catch 
big muskalonge, and lots of them, also trout and 
bass, come to this healthful and beautiful place. 

Weishar & Neff, Guides. 

WISCONSIN.— Lake Shore House, at Three Lakes. 
Guides, boats, tackle, camping outfits, etc., at reason- 
able rates. Grand scenery and climate and excellent 
fishing. Address Mr. F. R. Frhnch, Three Lakes, Wis. 

CALIFORNIA.— Hotel Green, at Pasadena. American 
plan ; $3.00 to $5.00 per day. 

J. H. Holmes, Manager. 

CALIFORNIA.— Pacific Ocean House, Santa Cruz, Cali- 
fornia. John R. Chace, Proprietor. Grand salmon 
fishing. 

CALIFORNIA.— The Hotel Brewster, at San Diego; 
splendidly equipped ; American plan : $2.50 per day 
and upward. J. E. O'Brien, Proprietor. 



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ALIFORNI A.— E.xcellent sport in the Bay of Monterey. 
Write George Schonewald, Manager Hotel del 
Monte, Monterey, for particulars. 

IRGINIA.— Alleghany Hotel, at Goshen, for game and 
bass fishing. Rawley Springs, Rockingham Co., Va., 
for trout fishing and game. 

J. Watkins Lee, Proprietor. 



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IRGINIA.— Nimrod Hall, Bath Co. Fur, fin and 
feather game. Address Edward A. Watson, Prop. 



VIRGINIA.— Snipe Shooting. Princess Anne Hotel, 
Virginia Beach, Va. Open January to September. 
iVI. S. E. Crittenden. Proprietor. 1,300 acres of the 
finest snipe grounds. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



RESORTS FOR SPORTSMEN. 



FLORIDA.— Health and sport combined at the Maxwell 
House and Mineral Well. Fine fishing and hunting 
couniry. Write J. W. McAllister, Proprietor, Max- 
well, Washington County, for particulars. 

FLORIDA.— We will send you The South Florida Home, 
(a monthly paper that tells about farming and fruit 
growing in Florida) one year, and insert your address 
in our " Mailing List " which will bring you lots of papers 
from all over Florida, and other States, for 20 cts., [silver]. 
Address Young G. Lee, Glenoak, Fla. 

LAKE VIEW HOTEL at Chipola (Dead) Lakes, Fla.— 
The famous hunti- g and fishing resort. 

J. T. Gilbert, Manager, Tola, Fla. 

SPORTSMEN looking for interesting trips north to the 
Barren Grounds of the musk ox and other game, 
should write to W. Guttridge, 

Grand Forks, British Columbia. 

THORNBER HOUSE, Chinook, Montana.— Cheerful, 
cozy, homelike; headquarters for sportsmen in a 
healthful region abounding in wild animals and 
game. Write with stamp for particulars. 

D. R. Thornber. 

WYOMING.— Marymere Ranche, Jackson Lake, Teton 
Mountains, Wyoming. An abundance of big game 
and trout. Two miles south of Yellowstone National 
Park. Established 1889. $15. a week, $50 a month. 

C. Hemenwav, Mg'r. 



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IG GAME IN JACKSON'S HOLE.— Elk, deer, moose, 
antelope and mountain sheep. Trout fishing unsur- 
passed. Parties wishing to hunt, address 

Fred E. White, Guide, Marysvale P. O., Wyoming. 

ROCKY MOUNTAIN GUIDE.— Those intending to 
take a trip to the Rocky Mountains for a hunt should 
write to S. N. Leek, Marysvale, Uinta Co., Wyo., 
for his terms. References given and required. 

IDAHO. — Hotel Bellevue, at Arangee. Grand trout fish- 
ing in the Rockies. Sagehens and big game. Write 
for particulars. Mrs. Hopf, Manager. 

L. WINEGAR, hunter and guide, Egin, Fremont 
County, Idaho. Tourists and hunting parlies 
outfitted. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SPORTSMEN'S GOODS. 



TTHACA HAMMERLESS DOUBLE GUN.— Send for 
X catalogue. Ithaca Gun Co., Ithaca, N. Y. 



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AKER HAMMERLESS GUNS.— Send for Baker Gun 
Quarterly. Baker Gun & Forging Co., Batavia, N. Y. 



VON LENGERKE & DETMOLD, 8 Murray Street, 
New York. Dealers in High Grade Arms, Ammuni- 
tion, Fishing Tackle and Bicycles. Sole Agents 
"Schultze" Smokeless Powder, Francotte Fine Guns. 

HARTLEY & GRAHAM, 313 & 315 Broadway. Agents 
for Union Metallic Cartridge Co., Remington Arms 
Co., Bridgeport Gun Implement Co., Celebrated 
Scott and Westley Richards Guns. 

GUNPOWDER. Guncotton, Smokeless Powder for Shot 
Guns and Rifles. Sporting Powder — all grades for 
llie Trap and Wild Game. 

E. I. DuPoNT DE Nemours & Co., Wilmington, Del. 

THE KING POWDER CO., Cincinnati. — Manufac- 
turers of "King's Smokeless" Shot-gun and Rifle 
Powder. Highest Velocity, Low Pressure, Finest 
Pattern, Lightest Recoil. " Quick Shot," best of Black 
Powder. 

SACALINE. — (New Forage Plant) for game preserves. 
What more! Write Pampas Grovk, Greenland, Fla. 

HE BEST FOLDING BOAT.— The safest, the strong- 
est, the most handsome, durable and compact. High- 
est award at the World's Fair Chicago, Ills., U. S. A., 

, for the best folding boat, etc. 
W. King, So. Rose St., Kalamazoo, Mich., U. S. A. 



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AMERICAN Boat Building Co., 3530 DeKalb Street, 
St. Louis, Mo. Manufacturers of High Class Pleasure 
Boats and Launches, Hunting, Fishing and Knock Down 
Boats (something new). Catalogues free. 

DIAMLER MOTOR COMPANY, manufacturers of 
Gasoline, Gas and Kerosene Motors for Stationary, 
Manufacturing, Marine, Carriage. Locomotive and many 
other purposes. Office and Manufacturing Works: 937- 
947 Steinway Ave., Steinway, Long Island City, N. Y. 

MONITOR Vapor Engine and Power Company, man- 
ufacturers of Marine Gas Engines and Launches, 
Grand Rapids, Mich. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



SPORTSMEN'S GOODS. 



THE PETERS CARTRIDGE CO., Cincinnati.— " Re- 
inforced " and " New Victor " Shells loaded with 
King's Smokeless. Standard sizes Metallic Car- 
tridges. Sure fire and accurate, strong and clean. Trap, 
Field and Target. 

TALCOTT'S BLACK FLY LOTION is the only known 
preparation that will positively repel Black Flies, 
Mosquitoes, Midges and other Insects. 
F. H. Talcott, 341 Washington St., Dorchester, Mass. 



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C NEAL'S Black Fly and Mosquito Preparation.- 
Lasting and Effectual. 

H. H. Nevens & Co., Portland, Me. 

'LLIS' LOTION for Fly and Mosquito bites. — 
t Nathen Ellis, Rangeley, Me. 



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YMAN'S gun and RIFLE SIGHTS.-Used all over 
the World. Send for catalogue. 

William Lyman, Middlefield, Conn. 

SPORTSMEN'S CLOTHING.— H. J. Upthegrove, Val- 
paraiso, Indiana. Canvas, duck, courderoy and all 
kinds of material. Send for catalogue. 

HERMANN BOKER & CO., New York.— Sole agents 
for the Syracuse Hammerless Shot Gun, Spencer 
Repeating Shot Gun and Mannlicher Repeating Rifle. 
Send for full catalogue. 

THE ROTARY SHOT SPREADER.— (Price 25 cents 
per hundred by mail), gives increased penetration 
and even pattern. Its many good points are more 
fully described in free circular. Address 

Daniel Brown, Thornton. R. I. 

MULLINS' stamped and embossed Sheet Metal Boats. 
Perfectly stiff, staunch and water-tight. Lightest 
draft. Practically non-sinkable and indestructible. 
Prices and catalogues on application. 

W. H. MuLLiNs, Salem, Ohio. 

SHOOTING Glasses for sportsman wearing distant 
glasses or who have defective vision. "Fowlers," 
38 E. Madison St., Chicago, 111. Correspondence 
solicited. 



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OATS AND CANOES of Maine Cedar and Oak ; also 
canvas canoes. C. W. Barrett, Rangeley, Me. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



ANGLERS' SUPPLIES. 



WHEELER'S NET. STAFF AND BOW.— Durable, 
Convenient and practical. Wheeler's Split Bamboo 
' Rods. Ch.^s. E. Wheeler, Farmington, Me. 

HAND-MADE TROUT AND SALMON FLIES.— 
Mrs. H. H. Dill, Rangeley, Me. 

RODS MADE AND REPAIRED — 
E. T. Hoar, Rangeley, Me. 

CHARLES PLATH & SON, 130 Canal St., (near 
'Bowery), New York. — Manufacturers of Snelled 
Hooks, Leaders, Minnow Gange, and Flies. New 
catalogue (profusely illustrated). 



GOOD READING. 

/^LD BOOKS.— Send stamp for list. Address, 
A. J. Crawford, 

312 N. 7th St., St. Louis, Mo. 

RARE OLD SPORTING BOOKS.— Fine stock always 
on hand. Send for catalogue. 

William Evarts Benjamin, 

751 Broadway, New York. 

THE MAINE SPORTSMAN.— Published at Bangor, 
Me. , is the most authentic as well as the pioneer journal 
of all outdoor recreation in Maine. Monthly, and 
costs One Dollar a year. 

FIELD AND STREAM, St. Paul, Minn.— Monthly ; 
$1.00 a year. 

FIELD SPORTS, San Francisco, Cal.— Weekly ; $3.00 
a year. 



EECREATION.— Monthly ; $i.ck) a year. 19 West 24th 
Street, New York, N. Y. 

FOREST AND STREAM.— Weekly; $4.00 a year. 346 
Broadway, New York. 

MAINE OUTINGS.— Monthly ; $1.00 a year. 
Portland, Me. 



THE DOG FANCIER, Battle Creek, Mich.— Month- 
ly ; 50 cents a year. 

SPORTSMAN'S REVIEW, Chicago, Ills. — Monthly ; 
$1.00 a year. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



TAXIDERMISTS AND NATURALISTS. 



PHOTOGRAPHS OF BIG GAME.— Genuine photo- 
graphs of live deer.elk, antelope, and rattlesnake in 
their wild state. Size, 5x8 ins., $2 a doz.; sample locts. 
Amos. S. Bennet, Craig, Routt Co., Colo. 



o 



REGON FAUNA.— Specimens indigenous to Oregon 
for sale ; price lists for stamp. B. J. Bretherton, 
Newport, Oregon, U. S. A. 

GLASS EVES, Tools and Supplies for the Ta.xidermist 
and naturalist. Birds' Eggs, Skins, Indian Relics, 
Sea Shells and Mounted Specimens. Complete illus- 
trated wholesale and retail catalogue for five-cent stamp. 
James P. Babbit t, 10 & 12 Hodges Ave., Taunton, Mass. 

OUR ILLUSTRATED Catalogue, "Heads and Horns." 
gives directions for preserving Skins, Antleis, etc. 
Also prices for Heads and Rugs, Birds and Fish, and 
all kinds of work in Ta.xidermy. Ward's Nat ural Science 
Establishment, Rochester, N. Y. 

NATURALISTS' SUPPLY D E P O T . — Specimens, 
Skins, Eggs, Tools and Supplies. Photographs of 
Mounted Specimens. All goods required by Naturalists. 
Send 10 cents for catalogue. Frank Blake Webster Co., 

Hyde Park, Mass. 

UMISMATIC MATTER— Orlan C. Cullen, Numis- 
matic and Philatelic Banker. Cullen, Warren Co., Va. 



N 



GAME HEADS.— Largest and finest mounted deer, 
moose and caribou heads. Messrs. S. L. Crosby & 
Co., ta.xidermists. No. 135 Exchange St., Bangor, 
Me. Correspondence solicited ; satisfaction guaranteed. 

ELK HEADS— I can furnish a limited number pf extra 
fine and large mounted Elk Heads. Magnificent orn 
aments for dining-room, residences and hotels. 
A. Kkndall, ist Nat. Bank, Rock Springs, Wyo. 

WANTED.— RAW FURS. 1000 Sable wanted, highest 
cash price, express charges paid, satisfaction guaran- 
teed or furs returned free of expense. Give us a 
trial. Reference, Bradsireet's. 

M. & J. Hudson, Guilford, Me. 

EARL B. WITTICH, Taxidermist and Furrier.— Head- 
quarters for Game Heads, Fur Rugs, Fossils, Petrifac- 
tions and Curios. Livingston, Montana. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



TAXIDERMISTS AND NATURALISTS. 

FRANK B. ARMSTRONG —Dealer in Birds' Skins and 
Eggs. Brownsville, Texas. Special attention to the 
collection, for scientific purposes, of all birds, beasts, 
reptiles, native to the interior and border of Mexico, and 
careful data in regard to same. Correspondence respectfully 
solicited. Address, Frank B Armstrong, Brownsville, Te.x. 

W PERRY ARNOLD.— Ancient Indian and Mound 
• Builders' Relics. Modern Indian Relics. Minerals, 
Curiosities, Books, etc. Sportsmens books a 
specialty. Catalogue free. Send lo cents for catalogue 
and elegant specimen free. Stonington, Conn. 

GEO. W. DIXON.— Watertown, So. Dak. Dealer in 
Indian Relics, Minerals, Fossils, Mounted Birds, 
Skins and Eggs. Lists and special prices in any 
branch sent on application. Prices very low. 

CHAS. K. WORTHEN.— Warsaw, Illinois. Established 
in 1873. Naturalist, Taxidermist, and dealer in Bird 
and Mammal Skins, Mounted Heads, Geodes, etc. 
Rare N. A. species a specialty. Enclose stamps with in- 
quiries or for price lists. 

FG. HILLMAN, New Bedford. Mass. — Dealer in 
. Natural Science Specimens and Curiosities. Send 
for price list. 

P. CONGER, Burlington, Vt.— Taxidermist. Birds, 
animals and fish mounted, and furs tanned. 



w 



THOMAS ROWLAND, Naturalist and Taxidermist. 
182 Sixth Ave.. New York, N. Y., U. S. A. Birds, 
fishes and mammals mounted true to nature at reason- 
able prices. Fine artistic work. 

SCHOPF'S Natural History Store. — 816 Broadway, New 
York. Rare curios. 



T 



AXI DERM Y. — Fine Work on Game Heads, game 
fishes and fur rugs. Thos. W. Fraine, 

16 Josyln Park, Rochester, N. Y. 

FRED. KAEMPFER, Taxidermist and Bird Fancier.— 
Dealer in materials used by Taxidermists. Oologists 
and Entomologists. 217 East Madison Street, Chicago, 
Ills. Send 2-cent stamp for general catalogue. 

TAXIDERMY.— Your attention is called to the fact that 
E. A. McIlhenny, of Avery's Island, La., will furnis-h 
you scientifically prepared natural history specimens 
at the cost of collecting. Ornithology and Oology are 
specialties. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



V/ILD GAME. 



FOXES.— How to trap them. Particulars for stamp. 
Address, Post Office Box 45, Walden, Vermont. 

ELK.— Live Elk, Moose, Mountain Sheep, Deer, Ante- 
lope, and Beavor for sale ; also fine game heads and 
hide. John Lethbridge, Lake P. O., Idaho. 

ILD GAME.— Chas. Payne, Wichita. Kansas, U. S. 
A. Collector and dealer in living Wild Animals. 
Deer, jack rabbits and quail a specialty. 



W 



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ILD GAME. — All species ; living and mounted. 
W. H. Root, Laramie, Wyoming. 



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ILD GAME.— Ira Dodge, collector of Wild Animals. 
Cora, Wyoming. 



FERTILIZED Brook Trout Egg and excellent young 
fry for stocking, in season. Address 

Troutmere, Oceola Mills, Wis. 



W^^D^ 



ILD GEESE.— Canadian Wild Geese and Wild Black 
ucks. $3 per pair ; geese, $6 to $S per pair. 
Percy F. Wonson, 
38 Mt. Pleasant Ave., E. Gloucester, Mass. 



w 



ILD DUCKS.— Live Ducks wanted. Teal. Pin-Tails, 

wood ducks, coots, or others, for breeding. Address, 

Fred. Mather, Cold Spring Harbor, New York. 

PHEASANTS ! PHEASANTS !— Golden, Silver, Lady 
Amherst and Golden, and Reeves. Versicolor, Swin- 
hoe and Ringneck Pheasants for sale. James Morri- 
son; Gardener, Mr. Schieftelin's Place, P.O. Box 4S. Tarry- 
town, N. Y. 

PHEASANTS.— Elegant varieties. L. Rottman, 
Benton, Ohio. 

ENGLISH PHEASANTS.— $35 per pair, good breeding 
birds. Eggs $10 per setting. 

L. Granger, Truro, N. S. 

ENGLISH PHEASANTS.— (Property of Rutherfurd 
Stuvvesant, esq.) lor sale. $10 per pair. Eggs, $3.50 
per setting Apply to 

Duncan Dunn, Gamekeeper, AUamuchy, N.J. 



Q 



UAIL. — Live Quail. E. B. Woodward, 

174 Chambers St., New York, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



PETS AND BREEDERS' SUPPLIES. 



BIRDS, CAGES, ANIMALS, FISHES, ETC.— Atlan- 
tic AND Pacific Bird Co., 197 Madison St., Chicago. 

CATS.— Angora or Coon Cats. Nice pets; house broken, 
cheap. F. L. Cooley, box 204, Belfast, Me. 

EGGS. — From prize rosecomb, white Leghorns, prize 
Pekin ducks and silver Wyandottes ; beauties ; none 
setters ; prolific layers ; beautiful pug puppies, regis- 
tered prize stock, and Jersey heifers. 

Geo. Gillivan, breeder, West Jefferson, O. 

FERRETS TRAINED.— Three dollars each. Ferret 
book, ten cents. Wallace & Son, Lucas, Ohio. 

FERRETS.— All kinds in any number; also pheasants 
and ornamental birds. J. F. Skees, Rochester, Ohio. 



H 



ARES. — Live wild white hares $2 per pair. 

Glenrose Beagi.e Kennels, Orland, Me. 



H 



ARES.— Belgian Hares. Just the thing for stocking 
parks and game preserves. Fine stock, but not fancy 
prices. A. H. Hawley, Breeder, Vineland, N. J. 



R 



ABBITS.— Choice rabbits for sale. English Lops and 
Belgian Hares. Enclose stamp and state your wants. 
Wm. E. Cummings, Co.xsackie, N. Y. 



PIGEONS.— Send for mv new descriptive circular de- 
scribing my homers with 410, 451 and 507-mile records. 
St. Bernard and Newfoundland pups. 

O. F. Connelly, Carlisle, Pa. 

TROUT EGGS.— Brook trout eggs, fry and yearlings 
for sale in their season. Correspondence solicited. 
J. W. Hoxie & Co , Carolina, R. I. 

TAGHKONIC Trout Preserve. Hatchery and Ponds, 
Sheffield, Mass. Brook-Trout Eggs, Fry and Year- 
lings. Henry A. Bishop, N. Y., N. H. & H. R. Co., 
New Haven, Conn. 

BERKSHIRE TROUT HATCHERY.— Brook trout, 
ranging in size from young fry to four pounds weight. 
C. H. Sage, Sec'y., Gt. Barrington, Mass. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



KENNEL. 



THE "FURNESS" KENNEL.- At Stud, the Field 
Winner, Kingston ; the Bencii Winner, Sir Percival. 
Brood Bitches, Dolly Furness, by Champion Monk of 
Fur' ess : Toptonia, by Champion Paul Gladstone; De 
Stael, by Champion Jean Val Jean. Puppies and trained 
dogs always on hand. Address, 

C. E. Dickey, Minneapolis, Minn. 



c 



LUMBER Spaniels, Cocker Spaniels; Scottish Terriers. 
Newcastle Kennels, 

Brookline Mass., U. S. A. 



rMPORTED SCHIPPERKES, the coming dog. Eng- 
L land's latest fad. Great ratters. Circular free. Address 
Barnes Bros,, Wellsville, N. Y. 



D 



OGS taken to Board and Break. -Bird dogs especially ; 
good references ; correspondence solicited. A. Smith, 
Norwood Kennel, Yardly, Pa. 

DEATH TO FLEAS AND MANGE.— Larmer's Flea 
Wash. Will keep dogs and cats from scratching and 
irritating their flesh ; make their coats as fine as silk. 
Thirty cents, postpaid. J. E. Lakmer, Norwalk, Conn. 

DOGS FOR SALE.— Newfoundlands, St. Bernards, Set- 
ters, Pointers, Spaniels, Pugs, Fox, Bull, Sky and 
Black and Tan Terriers, Beagles and Fo.x Hounds. 
Dogs and pups at low prices. Send for catalogue. 

Jacob Hope, 305 N. Ninth St., Philadelphia, Pa. 

FOR SALE.— English Setters by Champion Antonio- 
Prairie Girl. J. E. IsGRiGG, Carthage, Mo. 

ENGLISH GREYHOU.ND puppies for sale.— 
E. W. Johnson, Box 143^, Jacksonville, 111. 



B 



EAUMONT KENNELS.— Fine Gordon and Irish set- 
ters. Q38 Prospect Ave., near East i6ist Street, New 
York, N. Y. 



K 



ING Charles. — Prince Charles Rubies and Blenheim 
Spaniels exclusively. Puppies and full grown stock 
for sale. Stock dogs on hand. Merrvview Kennels, 
191 1 North Seventh Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

F. A. SINCLAIR'S 
{^o mmon Sense Chairs, Settees and Rockers'^^— 

Are just what their name implies. 

You cannot buy 
more sensible, easy 
seats. Ask your 
dealer for them, or 
send stamp for cat- 
alogue to 
F. A. SINCLAIR, 

MOTTVILLE, 

Onondaga Co. ,N Y. 
Special low freight to all parts of the United States. 



TO FISHERHEN, HUNTERS AND 
WHEELMEN : 

|^"FisHERMEN :— Allen's Foot-Ease. A powder to 

be shaken into the shoes ; is just the thing for your rubber 
and leather waders ; it absorbs moisture and keeps the feet 
dry and comfortable. You can wade more easily and 
twice as far. 

{:^~HuNTERS : — Make your rambles over fields and 

mountains, and through the woods more pleasant by sprink- 
ling Allen's Foot-Ease in your Boots and Moccasins. You 
can walk more easily and twice as far. It prevents tired, 
swollen feet and instantly lakes the sting out of corns and 
bunions. 

ltS~WHEELMEN :— Sprinkle Allen's Foot-Ease on your 

saddle and in your shoes. You can ride more easily and 
twice as far. Allen's Foot-Ease positively prevents sweating 
feet. It is sold by all druggists and shoe dealers for 25 cts. 
By mail for 25 cts. in stamps. Trial package free. Address 
ALLEN S. OLMSTED, Le Roy, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



GOLD DUST SnOKELESS, 

MANUFACTURED BV 

United States Smokeless Powder Co., 

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 

Light Recoil. No Gun Cotton. No Nitro Glyce- 
rine. Insures Fine Patterns at all Distances. 
Will not Bunch Shot with Heavy Loads. Uni- 
form and Regular in Action. High Velocity, Low 
Pressure, Absolute Safety. Is Ej^ective with 
Cheap Wadding and Cheap Shells. Not affected 
by Extremes of Heat, Cold, or Moisture. 

Anyone can load Gold Dust. Address 

W. L. COLVILLE, Eastern Manager, Batavia, N. Y. 



YACHTING, FISHING, HUNTING and 
CAMPING GOODS. 

White Duck Fishing and Yachting Pants, 70 cts. 
and $1 a pair. Guns, Pistols, Macintoshes, Ameri- 
can Hags and U. S. Yacht Ensigns, 4 ft., $1.50. 
Macintoshes, $4. 

WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 

61 FRONT ST., = - - NEW YORK. 

JAMES MacPHEUBON, 

LANDSCAPE GARDENER, 

/ T-. ^ 

TRENTON, N. J. 

Public Parks, Private Gardens, and College Grounds 
Specialties. Sportsmen are respectfully requested to speak 
of me to their hosts of the Parks and Gardens. Verbal 
advice and inspection gratis, but liberal remittance should 
be forwarded to cover e.xpenses. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The leading Sportsman's Journal of the 
Pacific Coast is 

THE BREEDER AND SPORTSMAN. 

Six limes the circulation of any other paper of its 
class on the Coast. Send us your news items and 
anecdotes of your sport afield and astream. Sub- 
scription $3.00 per year. With a copy of " Haunts 
of Wild Game," I3.50. Sample free. : : : : : 

LAYNQ & nOORE, 

315 Bush Street SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 

THE FISHING GAZETTE. 

(Established 1884.) 
A Weekly Journal devoted exclusively to 

THE FISHING INDUSTRIES, FISH CULTURE, 
THE NATURAL HISTORY OF FISH. 

Subscribe for it. $2.00 per year ; with a copy of 
" Haunts of Wild Game," $2.50. 

ADDRESS 

THE FISHING GAZETTE, 317 Broadway, New York. 

If you are a gentle sportsman of the rod and gun, you 
should read 




The illustrated magazine of amaieur sport, travel and 
adventure. Price 25 cents : by the year, $3.00; with a copy 
of " Haunts of Wild Game," $3.50. Offices: 239 241 Filth 
Ave., New York, N. Y. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE ST. DENIS, 

BROADWAY & ELEVENTH STREET, 

Opposite Grace Church. NEW YORK. 

"EUROPEAN PLAN" 



Rooms, 



$1.50 per day and upward. 



" There is an atmosphere of home comfort and hospitable 
treatment at the St. Denis which is rarely met with in a 
public house, and which insensibly draws you there as 
often as you turn your face toward New York." 



THE ONLY." 




' THE ONLY " FLY WORM No. 2. Price 25 cts. 

"The Only" Fly Worm No. i, also an attractive bait, 
price 10 cts.. but has no Spinner. For deep water fishing, 
use "The Only" Trolling Worms i, 2 & 3, price 50, 75&$t.oo. 
All goods by mail upon receipt of price. For sale by all 
dealers. All baits, having name, " The Only " Fly or Trol- 
ling Worms, are sure killers, and made only by 

THE ONLY MFQ. CO.. 

Indianapolis, Ind., U. S. A. 




TACKLE( 



MAJS^CHESTERWT 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



[)oyou desire to visit 



THE 



HUNTING AND FISHING GROUNDS 

OF 

Northern Eastern flaine, 

New Brunswick or 
TAKE THE Nova Scotia ? 

International S. S. Go's. Boats 
FROM BOSTON. 



SHALL WE? . . 




Shall we send you in- 
formation as to the grand 
hunting and fishing resorts 
of Colorado ^ 



B. L. WINCMELL, 

G. P. A. South Park Line, 

DENVER. COLORADO. 



A PRACTICAL, COMMON-SENSE CAMP STOVE. 

In five sizes ; patent applied 
for. Used by 3,700 campers. 
Only one stove returned out 
of the lot. Lightest, most com- 
pact, practical stove made ; 
either with or without oven. 
Won't get out of shape ; com- 
bination cast and sheet steel 
top; steel body; heavy lining; 
telescopic pipe carried inside 
of stove. Burns largest wood; 
keeps fire longest of any stove made. For full particulars 
address: D. W. Cree, Manufacturer, GriggsviUe, 111. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE STORY OF BETHABARA. 

MORE than twenty years ago there appeared m a 
London paper an account of the making of a fishing 
rod in Ireland from wood brought from South Africa 
by an English army officer. This wood was said to have 
remarkable strength and elasticity and was hailed as the 
ideal rod wood, which anglers had been hoping to fi nd for 
years. A. B. Shiplev & Son, then the leading tackle house 
of this country, gave orders to an agent to find the trees in 
South Africa and send a log to America. The agent dis- 
covered that the trees did not grow in groves, but were 
widely scattered and that the wood was used by the natives 
for bows, which would send an arrow almost inconceivably 
far. The first log sent to Shipley & Son was cut into rods 
which at once attracted widespread attention for their 
superiority in everything that makes a rod desirable. As 
the tree had no known name, the firm called the wood 
Bethabara. It has been frequently imitated, but the 
Shiplevs are the only ones who have ever imported the 
genuine wood. Others have tried to discover it, but their 
task was like hunting a needle in a haystack. 

MALCOLM A. SHIPLEY, 

Manufacturer of Fine Fishing Tackle, 
432 Market St., ... Philadelphia, Pa. 

Send for Illustrated Price List of 80 pages, 
of Tackle, Rods, etc. 




■Xcjl »l!l-uil«; su .t(l mSiu 11' Si 



a iADDIN'S LAMP 

Built to burn. . . 
It won't go out. 

The Highest Grade Lamp 
at the Lowest Price. 

All dealers sell it. 

THE ALADDIN LAMP CO.. 
518 Broad St., Newark, N. J 



HE IS DEAD! 



Who shoots and has not the Ideal Hand Book for shooters. 
Free. 100 pages. 

IDEAL MFG. CO., 

New Haven, Conn, U. S. A. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The Automatic Reel 





Does it 



Send for 



It will wind up the 
line a hundred times 
as fast as any other 
reel in the world. It 
will wind up the line 
slowly. No fish can 
ever get slack line 
with it. It will save 
more fish than any 
other reel. Manifi- 

I. ATED ENIIRELV BY 
THE HAND THAT HOLD,'! 
THE ROD. 



Cataloouk. YAWMAN & ERBE, 



Please mention 
"Haunts of Wild Game." 



ROCHESTER, N. Y. 



I WANT TO SELL YOU ONE 




Do you 
want 



If so, write for Catalogue. 

J. H. RUSHTON, Canton, N. V. 




I I OUII 6 dUUI nUIKb. send for 6i page Catalog. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE KITTATINNY, 



Delaware Water Gap, flonroe County, Pa. 

The largest and most attractively located Hotel 

in the Delaware Valley, and the only one 

having an Elevator, Rooms en Suite with 

Baths, etc., and Heated by Steam. 

The Favorite Spring, Summer and 
Autumn Resort. 

SEND FOR BOOKLET.- 



W. A. BROADHEAD £ SONS. 
The Next Best Thing to Game 

in "HAUNTS OF WILD GAME," 

*' DE LI C ATESSE/' 

The new " Confection in Cheese. Convenient to Carry. 
No Waste. Reasonable in Price. A Keeper. 

"LA DELICATESSE" COHPANY, 

HERKIMER. N. Y. 



New York : Park & Tilford ; Acker, Merrall & Condit ; 
Charles & Company. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



FINE GUNS AND OUTFITS. 

"Scott," " Westley Richards," "Greener," and all others. 

Other Guns taken in Trade. 

Illustrated Catalogue and List of Second-Hand High Grade 

Guns taken in trade. Mailed on application. 




Send lo cents in stamps for elegantly illustrated catalogue 
of Fishing Tackle mentioned by Forest and Stream. 

WM. READ & SONS, 

Established 1826. 107 Washington St., Boston, Mass. 

STOP AT 

MILLKR'S HOTKIv, 

37, 39 & 41 W. 26th St., New York City. 

Between Broadway and Si.xth Avenue, near Madison Sq. 
A clean, quiet, comfortable hotel-home. American plan. 
$2.50 per day. Permanent guests at weekly rates. 

CHARLES H. HAYNES, Pp oprietor. 

TAKE YOUR^^^ 

Turkish, Electric and Roman Baths 

AT MILLER'S, 

41 West 26th Street, NEW YORK CITY. 

Call or send for illustrated circular, sent free. 

CHAS. H. HAYNES, Proprietor. 




it 



THREE IN ONE 



GUNS, BICYCLES, REELS, ETC. 

prevents Rust, Cleans, Lubri- 
' cates. Its rust preventive qual- 
ities are marvelous. As a lubricant 
it has no equal. Its cleaning proper- 
ties are unsurpassed. Does not 
evaporate, gum or harden. All 
dealers sell it. Manufactured by 

G. W. COLE & CO., 

1 1 1 Broadway, NEW YORK. 

Sample is ITiciiel Oil Can for lOo. in Stamps. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




^S- John Ry. 



The new route to the far-famed Saguenay, and the only 
rail route to the delightful summer resorts and fishing 
grounds north of Quebec and to Lake St. John and Chicou- 
timi, through the Canadian Adirondacks. A beautifully 
illustrated guide book free on application. 

ALEX. HARDY, J. G. SCOTT. 

Gen. F. & P. Agt., Quebec, Can. Secy. & Manager. 

FRED. D. DIVINE, 

MANUFACTURER OF 

FINE HAND=MADE 

Fishing Rods. 

What Angler has not heard of the 

Divine Rod ? 

Send for Catalogue. 

FRED. D. DIVINE, 

76 State Street, UTICA, N. Y. 



"THE ADIRONDACKS AND THEM GLORIFIED." 

" CLOSE upon the heels of Murray came 
S. R. Stoddard, with his camera, his 
note book and his brush, all of which 
he has used continuously for twenty- 
three years to make the fame of the 
Adirondack Wilderness known to the 
outside world. Stoddard has done even 
more than Murray to publish the re- 
sults of his discoveries, for in guide 
books, on his maps, in his marvelous 
photographs, on the lecture platform, 
on the screen, in poetry and in song, 
he has for nearly a quarter of a century 
preached the Adirondacks, and them 
glorified."— New York Mail and Express. 
For Guide Books, Maps, etc., address 

S. R. STODDARD, Glens Falls, N. Y. 





HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



PARKER GUNS 

ARE MODELS OF PERFECTION. 




First and Second among 105 shooters at Grand American 
Handicap, 1896. 

Perfect Contraction. I _ ,- 

Always Reliable. . . | ^^^° ^°^ Catalogue. 

PARKER BROS., meriden. ct. 

New York Salesrooms: 96 Chambers St. 




BEAUTIFUL 

M008E-HIDE MOCCASINS 

(chamois tanned.) 

PRICES: 

Mt-n's, Rizes 611, S3. 7.5 
Ladies & Boys 2-5, 3.35 
Youths' I ,..,,»- 

Misses, ; s'zesll-l. 1.7.^ 

Cliildrens*. •• 4-10, 1.35 

METZ & SCHLOERB 

1S^^^ OSHKOSH, WIS. 

»[s?5^ ggi^l postpaid 071 

\ receipt of price. 



Who wears tliem .' \\ hy, people troubled with rheuma- 
tism, gout, or swollen feet from any cause whatever, when 
they cannot wear their ordinary footwear ; sportsmen, for 
summer and winter outings ; and, in fact, anybody wanting 
real foot comfort and foot ease at home. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE CLEVELAND BICYCLE. 




Would you know the acme of Cycling sport ? 

Then ride THE CLEVELAND. 



Best of all, there's Honest 
Value in it. 



It embodies : 
SPEED, BEAUTY, 
DURABILITY. 



Write fur book " A Trip Around the World." 

H. A. LOZIER & CO., CLEVELAND, OHIO. 

Branch Houses: 337 Broadway, N. Y. City. 830 Arch St., 
Philadelphia, Pa. 304 McAllister St., San Francisco, Cal. 
Factories: Toledo, O. Thompsonviile, Ct. Toronto Junc- 
tion, Ontario. 



4™,..™ QUICK IN ITS ACTION 



to relieve strained, sore or stiffened 
muscles, and to heal abrasion of the 
skin, burns, or slight wounds. 

TRY ANTI-STIFF 

All athletes will be greatly benefited 
bv its strengthening and stimulating 
effects. Quickly relieves Rheumatism 

At Druggists and Sporting Goods 
Dealers. Price 23o.-39o. Trainer's size, $1.12. 

E. FOUGERA & CO., 
30 N. William St., NEW YORK. 




STRENCTHiNSn'' 

^ THIIMUSCU8 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

Highest Award and Medal at the World's Colum= 

bian Exposition, Chicago, U. S. A., on 

Pishing Reels, awarded to 

JULIUS VOM HOPE, 

Wholesale Manufacturer, 

No. 351 SOUTH FIFTH ST., ■ BROOKLYN, N. Y. 



All genuine Reels bear my name. For sale at all retail 
stores. No branch store in an)' city. 



J. B. CROOK & CO., Established 1837- 

1180 BROADWAY, cor 28th ST., 

Manufacturers and NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A. 
Importers of . . . 

HIGHEST 1 lolllll^ HIGHEST 
GRADE 'T'ipl/lp GRADE 

SPECIALTIES FOR 1896 

FEATHERWEIGHT RODS, ALUMINUM 

REELS, TROUT and SALMON FLIES. 

The only Waterproof Fly Lines : The London Black for 
Trout, Salmon and Black Bass. 

Send for catalogue. Mention Haunts of Wild Game. 



BROOK TROUT 

Of all ages for stocking brooks and lakes. Brook trout 
eggs in any quantity warranted delivered anywhere in tine 
condition. Correspondence solicited. 

PLYMOUTH ROCK TROUT CO., 

Plymouth, Mass. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE 



"ALLRIGHT" BASS CASTING REEL 

40 yds. Trout, $1.75 80 yds. Bass, $2.00. 
150 yds. Saltwater, $2.50. 

5? ;; i s v.- 




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A. F. MEISSELBACH & BRO., Hfrs. 

22 PROSPECT ST., NEWARK, N J. 



MILAMS 



Frankfort 
Kentucky 



^B E^ V^ ■ The standard 
mm W^ B^ I for 60 years. 
1 I \ I I I Iq "SB by 

I ■ ^ wL^ mi^ WL^ thousands of 
'leading sportsmen. Perfect in cod- 
Fl*struction, elfigant in appearance, 
and most durable in the world. 
Catalogue free. B. (J Milam & isoN VYankfort Ky. 




t^5 




The Best 

Casting Reel 

on Earth, 

With automatic device 
for the perfect winding 
of the line. Send for 
circular. 

Wheeler-McGregor 

Reel Co., 

Milwaukee, Wis. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



IDE 111 \ P|fjj/mC> 

\ ^id 




Jnt,r| tlnrrifig^lori Krrrjp 



THE BOYS' OWN GUIDE TO FISHING, Tackle 
Making, and Fish Breeding, by John Harrington Keene. 
Illustrated $1.50. This is a volume that will delight and 
instruct the boys. It is beautifully illustrated, and the text 
is bright and practical in its instruction, and interesting 
upon every page, because it gives jubt the information that 
every spirited boy should have. To any boy mentioning 
"Haunts of Wild Game" and sending $1.00 we will forward 
a copy of the above postpaid. Catalogues mailed free. 
LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 



A DELIGHTFUL SEA TRIP to the 
Sporting Resorts of Te.xas, Arizo- 
na, N. Mexico, Colorado, California. 
Mexico, Georgia and Florida. Take the 
Mallorv S feameks, Pier 20, E. K., N. Y. 
Our book. Southern Waterways, mailed 
free. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



oz. 





An Adjustable Screw Sinker 

FOR 

LINES AND LEADERS. 

Most Popular Sinker Made. 

How TO Use It. 

Unscrew it. drop the line into the open- 
ing, give It one turn around the pivot, and 
screw together. 

A libera) dozen, (17) assorted sizes, by 
mail, for 25 cents. 

All dealers up with the times keep the 
"MACKINAC." Ask for it. 

W. H. TUFT5, Manufacturer, 

WASHINGTON, D. C. 




NATURALIST.S' SUPPLIES and books, glass eyes, 
showy shells, minerals, birds' eggs and curiosities. 
Fine work in ta.xidermy. Our specialty, fish and game 
heads. A large stock on hand at reasonable prices. Com- 
plete illustrated catalogue for stamp. 

Chas. K. Reed, 62 Main St., Worcester, Mass. 



" Anything which leads a man to take two baths where 
he only took one before may confidently be regarded as a 
great benefit to him."— Medical Record, N. Y. 

"And for the connecting link between one and two 
baths we can cordially commend Packer's Tak Soaj'. 
* * * * It will be found an invaluable companion in 
the woods. — Dr. Rome, in American Field, Chicago. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



WM. H. COHEN & CO. 

Commission dealers in all kinds of game, poultry, furs, 
ginseng, etc. Best market prices with daily returns. Refer 
to any one in New York. 

CANNED GOODS 
Especially adapted for Fishing, Camping and Yachting 
purposes. 

Over 40 years experience. None but the best of every- 
thing used, by the most skillful and experienced hands. 

No Glucose or Blue vitrol used. Call and examine for 
yourself. 

WILLIAM H. COHEN & CO., 

229 & 231 Washington St., NEW YORK. 



y-Y ■ T IV T ^ Great sale Colt, Parker. Baker, and other 
11 11 1^ ^^ Breech Loaders. Price way down. 
Triumph American Hammerless Double 
Guns, the best of any, $22.00 ; Single barrel, $3 00 ; or with 
Scott Top Lever, $5.50; Imported Double barrel Top Lever 
$7.50; Muzzle Loaders, $2; Target Rifles, $1.80; Air 
Rifles, $1 ; Repeating, lr.50; Revolvers, 22, 32 or 38, $r ; 
Bicycles, half price, I20.00 up ; fine Boxing Gloves, de- 
livered—set cf four Gloves, Chamois Skin, boy's size, $1 40; 
men's, $[.50 ; White Kid, $2 ; send stamps for 48-page 
pictorial Catalogue. H. & D. FOLSOM ARMS CO., 

314 Broadway, Nkw York. 



EVERY SPORTSMAN 

Would be pleased to own a gun that makes at will a 
close or an open pattern. The new model of 

ROTARY .-. SHOT .-. SPREADER 

Is very efficient in enlarging the pattern of 
a choke-bore, and it wonderfully increases 
penetration in any gun. 
Ten Spreaders sent tree if desired. Retail, 
25C. per 100. 12 guage only supplied. 

DANIEL BROWN, Thornton, R. I. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 

THE MONTAUK 

STEAMBOAT COMPANY, 

[LiniTED] 

STE.A.:]S^E.E=l.S 

SHINNECOCK .• and .• MONTAUK 

— FOR— 

Orient Point, Orient, Manhanset House, Greenport, 

Shelter Island Heights, Southold, Sag 

Harbor and Block Island. 

The only direct route between New York City and 

Block Island, from Pier 26, East River, foot of Peck Slip, 

New York. 

For day and hours of sailing, see Bullinger or Mdckey 
Guide, or address A. S. FRENCH, Agent, Pier 26, E. R., 
New York City, or, H. FRENCH, Gen'l Manager, Sag 
Harbor, N. Y. 

5^1^ 



§TEAMER SHINNECOCK 



Is a new sidewheel steamer and one of the most 
completely fitted steamers plying Long Island 
Sound. She is lighted throughout by electricity ; 
has dining-room on saloon deck foreward ; call 
bell in every room and an immense amount of deck 
room. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



(jas Engine 

and Power Co., 



nORRlS HEIGHTS, 
NEW YORK CITY. 




SOLE MANUFACTURERS OF 

THE ONLY NAPHTHA LAUNCH. 



Clean, light in weight and draught, and under way in 
three minutes. The "Blue Book" contains hundreds of 
testimonials. Catalogue, with prices and all particulars, 
sent on application. 

FULLY 2,000 LAUNCHES IN SUCCESSFUL 
OPERATION. 

Practically demonstrated to be absolutely safe. Im- 
possible to e.xplode boiler, engine, or any part of the mechan- 
ism under conditions subjected to in usage. The n.a.phth.a. 
LAUNCH is the simplest, safest and speediest power boat 
built. No special knowledge of machinery required. Can 
be handled by anyone. No steam, no heat, no dust, no 
dirt, no smoke, no grease and no ashes. Economical to run. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



The REPEATER '^^»'**^f:^9y:Rl9^r 







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MADE IN ALL 

Calibres and Styles. 



Catalogue on AppLrcATioN. 



THE MARLIN 

FIRE ARM5 CO. 

NEW HAVEN, CONN. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



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HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




The Prospectus of the Herriewold 
Park Club ? 

Membership insures you the use of the best Gamelands 
•f Sullivan County, N. Y., trout, deer, grouse, quail, hare 
and squirrel in abundance. Imposing scenery, grand 
climate. Send for illustrated description. 

W. J. ATKINSON, Treasurer, 

108 Fulton Street, NEW YORK, N. Y. 




HAUNTS -OF WILD GAME. 

IDEAL HUNTING and FISHING GROUNDS 

REACHED BY THE 

BANGOR - & - AROOSTOOK - RAILROAD. 

But a few places could be found 
in America that would please the 
Sportsman of to-day as well as the 
region through which this road 
passes. Nearly 300 miles of track 
through virgin forest and by lake 
and stream. 

The shipment of game from 
our stations, greater than all New 
England put together. 

1531 DEER, 112 MOOSE, 130 CARIBOU 

Shipped during October, November and December, 
1895. 
The above statement, compiled from records 
kept by station agents, comprises only game 
shipped by visiting sportsmen, and does not include 
that killed by native hunters, nor the large quantity 
consumed in camps. 

To THE Fishermen 
As well as to the hunter for big game this country 
offers opportunities unrivalled in this part of the 
East, and surpassed nowhere. Visit such places as 
The Moosehead Region, Penobscot River 
Waters, Big Machias Lakes, Fish River 
Region, Aroostook River Region, the 
Katahdin Ponds. 
It is the Wilderness that explains it ! 
..:.. THROUGH TRAINS..:.. 
From Boston and Portland, with Pullman Buffet 
Parlor Cars, direct to the Sports- 
men's Paradise. 
For further information, write to the General 

Passenger Agent 

F. W. CRAM, Vice-Pres. and Gen'l Manager. 
GEO. M. HOUGHTON, Gen'l Pass, and Ticket Agt. 
General Offices, Bangor, Me. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 






Oftit 



WftX 



When planning your annual 
summer vacation remember 
that along the line of this road 
are some of the finest fishing 
and hunting grounds in the 
world. Its equipment is first 
class in ever)' respect, and 
travelers can be assured of 
comfort and good service. 

A Tew OF THE PRINCIPAL RESORTS 

Androscoggin Lakes (via Bryant's Pond or Bethel). — Ex- 
cellent trout fishing and game, large and small, of every 
description. 
The White Mountains (via Gorham, N. H.).— For trout 

and varities of game. 
The Salmon Resorts of Quebec, New Brunswick and 

Novia Scotia (reached via Quebec). 
Lake St. John Region (via Quebec),— For ouananiche, 

trout, caribou, bear, moose, beaver, otter, etc. 
The River St. Lawrence (in the neighborhood of the line 
for 400 miles). — For mascalonge, pike, bass, whitefish, 
pickerel, perch. 
The Thousand Islands (via Gananoque or Kingston). — 

For pickerel, black bass, mascalonge, pike. 

Muskoka Lakes. — The best place on the continent for 

fishing, shooting and camping. All varieties of fish and 

game. 

Parry Sound and Georgian Bay (reached via Penetang, 

. Midland, Collingwood, etc.') — For black bass, pickerel, 

deer, parti idge, bear, otter, etc. 
Lakes Ontario, Erie, Huron and Michigan (via stations 

at all principal ports). 
Lake Superior (via Collingwood, Wiarton, Sarnia in con- 
nection with steamship lines). 

The charges for hotels, guides and camping at many of 
the fishing waters named above are extremely low. Full 
particulars ot same are published in phamphlets descriptive 
of the fishing and hunting resorts of the Grand Trunk Rail- 
way System, which will be forwarded free on application 
to the company's principal agents, or to the General Pas- 
senger Agent at IVIontreal. 

CHAS. M. HAYS, GEO. B. REEVE, W. E. DAVIS, 

Gen. Manager, Gen. Traffic Manager, Gen. Pass. Agt. 
MONTREAL, P. Q. 

FRANK P. DWVER, East. Pass. Ag*t, 

273 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Where to qoi 

—FOR GOOD— 

Shooting lll^ 

^^ AND r'AMC 

Fishing country 

In the Mississippi Valley to=day is along 
the line of the. 

IN.. 




MISSOURI, 
ARKANSAS 



AND 



LOUISIANA. 



SMALL GAME is very abundant and has been shot 
at very little. Deer and Tlkkev 
are plentiful, and the fishing for black bass and other game 
fishes of the very best. This Line also reaches direct from 
St. Louis or Memphis, by double daily through car service, 
the famous hunting and fishing grounds on the Gulf. 

SPECIAL FEATURES OFFERED: 

Reduced Rates to Sportsmen. 
Hunting Cars Fully Equipped. 
Side Tracking Cars on or Near the Grounds. 
Carrying Free of Dogs, Quns and Camp Equip- 
ment. 

WRITE For aopy of Ideal Hunting and Fishing Pam- 
phlet (descriptive and illustrated) of best loca- 
tions and other information, to Company's Agents, or 



Generai 
Passenger Agent. 



H. G. TOWNSEND, 

ST LOUIS, MO. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THE PARADISE OF : : : 

[-[ unters and p ishermen. 
COLORADO. 

Abounds in Game of all Descriptions. The Finest 
Trout in tlie World. 

All Hunting and Fishing Grounds in the Stale 
are reached only via the 

DENVER & RIO GRANDE R. R. 

SCENIC LINE of the WORLD. 




Sportsmen in search of new fields will find it to their 
advantage to call on or address, for all inform- 
ation as to game lands, rate, etc. 

H. E TUPPER, Gen'l Agent 353 Broadway, New York. 

E.T.JEFFERY, A.S.HUGHES, S. K. HOOPER, 

President. Traffic M'g'r. G. P. & T. A. 

DENVER. =. COL. 

Notice. — A set of six beautiful Albertype views of Rocky 
Monutain Scenery, on 11x14 paper, suitable for framing, 
will be mailed upon receipt of fifty cents (money order), 
sent to S. K. HOOPER, g. p. & t. a., Denver, Col. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



^rg the««.. 




When you want to 

HUNT or FISH 



Then you will be all right. 

Yellowstone Park is the greatest Trout preserve in the 
World. 

Send six cents for Wonderland 'q6. 



CHAS. S. FEE, 

Qen. Passenger Agent, 

ST. PAUL, - - MINN. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




IS FOUND IN THE 

FLORIDA CENTRAL 

!■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ 

AND PENINSULAR'S 

Little book of RESORTS 

FOR HUNTING AND FISHINQ 
AND TOURISTS. . . . 



The F. C. & P. reaches the most desirable localities 
ior these purposes. 



It is the shortest line to and through Florida. 
Maps, rates and full information 
given by 
f. L. ADAMS, General Eastern Agent, 353 Broad- 
way, New York. 

DANIEL LAMMOT, Jr., Agent, 40 S. Third St., 
Philadelphia, Pa. 

JOHN R. DUVAL, Agent, 231 E. German St., 
Baltimore. 

A. O. MacDONELL, General Passenger Agent, 
Jacksonville, Fla. 

N. S. PENNINGTON, Trafific Manager. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



When You are going 
....Northwest 



See that your Ticket 
reads via the 



luin Gil lis. 



Host direct route between 
Chicago and Milwaukee, Wau- 
kesha, Stevens' Point, Neenah, 
Ashland, ilinneapolis, St. Paul, 
Duluth and the Iron Towns. 

Superbly appointed, elegantly equipped 

passenger service; through palace 

sleeping and dining cars. Send 

4 cts. for "Our Summer." 

J AS. C. POND, Qen'l Pass. Agt. 
C. L. WELLINGTON, Traffic ngr. 

MILWAUKEE, WIS. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Chateaugay Railroad 

BETWEEN 

Plattsburgh and Saranac Lake 

TO THE 

Adirondack Mountains, 

Chazy Lake, Chateaugay Lake, Loon Lake, 
Saranac Lake and Lake Placid, 

IN CONNECTION WITH THE 

DELAWARE AND HUDSON RAILROAD. 

Three Trains Daily Each Way. • 

Drawing : Room . Cars : on : all : Trains. 

Wagner palace sleeping cars on all night trains, and 
Wagner drawing room cars on all day trains between 

New York and Plattsburgh. 

Tickets, Sleeping and Drawing Room Car Accommodations 

and Baggage Checked from all Stations. Trains 

run through to Lake Placid without change. 

J. N. STOWER, W. W. CONAUGHTY, 

General Manager, Superintendent. 

PLATTSBTRGH, N. Y. 

The Tropical Trunk Line 

Traiitic trends tideward toward the twisting tack 
the trackless tarpon takes. Jacksonville, Tampa and 
Key West Ry., and connections form a continuous 
line. Jacksonville to the east coast, the west coast, 
the south coast. Reaches all hunting, fishing and 
pleasure resorts of Florida. For maps, etc., address 

Q. D. ACKERLY, Gen. Pass. Agent, 

Jacksonville, Fla. 

THE LAND OF EVANGELINE is the Tourist's Para- 
dise, the Angler's Arcadia, the Sportsman's Delight, 
and has the best climate on the Footstool. 

P. GiFKixs, G. P. A. Dominion Atlantic Ry., 

Kentville, Nova Scotia. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Alive With Game. 

If you want good sport, plenty of it and no 
blank days, send for the Canadian Pacific 
Railway Company's Pamphlet .... 

FISHING AND SHOOTING. 



E. V. SKINNER, G. E. A., 353 Broadway, N. Y. 

H. J. COLVIN, D.P.A., 197 W'sh'gton St., Boston, M.\ss. 

C. SHEEHY, II Fort St., West, Detroit, Mich. 

J. F. LEE, G.A.P.D., 232 S. Clark St., Chicago, Ills. 

D. McNICOLL, Pass. Traffic Manager, Montreal, Qie. 



BIG GAME AND SMALL. 

Grizzlies, Goats, Grouse, Mountain Lion, Deer, Caribou, 
Elk and Antelope. Big Fish and Little Fish, Salmon, 
Trout, Muscallonge, Brook Trout, Gamy Bass and Montana 
Grayling. Guides, Camps, Pack Trains and Provisions at 
Lake McDonald in the Montana Rockies. Make it the 
objective point of your summer outing. Reached via 

THE GREAT NORTHERN 

RAILWAY FROM ST. PAUL.... 

Unexcelled transcontinental service. Send a postal to 
F. I.WHITNEY, G.i'.&T. A., ST. PAUL, MINN. 



BEST FISH AND GAME REGION. — Don t buy 
tickets for a R. R. ride only, but to the best fishing 
and hunting section in the U. S. For information, address 

FRANKLIN & MEGANTIC R. R. CO., 

.STRONG, ME., 

or Jordan's Hotel, Kingfield; Carrebasset House, Carrebas 
set; Ledge House or Mt. Bigelow House, Dead River; 
Lake House, Flag Staff ; Blanchard House, Stratton ; Shaw 
House or Coburn House, Eustis, all in Maine. Buy tickets 
only via M. C. R. R., Sandy River R. R. to Strong and F. 
& M. R. R. to Carrebasset, and Carrebasset Stage Line to 
Eustis. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



"A 



dirondack " or " Dean Richmond 



... OF THE . . . 

-People's Evening Line. 



The Steamer " Adirondack," the only four decked and 

largest river steamer in the world. 

You will enjoy all the comforts of good living. Table 

supplied with the best the markets afford. The excellence 

ot the cuisine is a feature of this line. This is the tourist's 

and pleasure seeker's route, as well as the business mans. 

A sieamer leaves Albany for Nca- York (every week dav) 

8 p. M. Leaves New York for Albany (every week day) 

from Pier 41, N. R , foot of Canal btreet, 6 p. m. Fare, $(.50. 

Round Trip, $2.50. Saturday night steamer connects at 

Albany Sunday morning lor Saratoja and Lake George. 

M. B. WATERS, G. P. A. 




THE FINEST : : : : 

DUCK AND QUAIL . 

SHOOTING in America 

IS TO BE FOe NW IN 

Eastern Virginia and North 
Carolina, 

And the ideal way of getting there 

is by the superb steamers of the 

OLD DOMINION LINE, 

Leaving New York daily, e-xcept 

Sunday, for Old Point Com- 

FiiRT and Norfolk, Va. 

For information, address 

OLD DOMINION S. S. CO., 
Pier 26, North River, New York. 

W. L. GlTLI.AlDEi:, 

Vice-Pres. and Traffic Mgr. 



GOOD NEWS TO SPORTSMEN: 

FLORIDA is one of the greatest Fish and Game States 
in the Union. The completion of the Florida East 
Coast Railway to Miami on Biscayne Bay has opened up 10 
rapid and comfortable transportation the most inviting 
field in the State for the devotees of the gun and rod. For 
literature, address, 

J. R. Parrott, Vice-President, or 

J. D. Rah.mer, a.g. F.A., St. Augustine, Fla. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




JAMESTOWN, N. Y. 
New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Paris. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



What is 
bicycle 
tubing 
made of 




Only one way to know. Buy 




STANDARD OF THE WORLD 

Every foot of Columbia tubing is made 
in our own mills from carefully selected 
and tested high-carbon steel and nickel 
steel. Columbia tubing is the strongest 
and best in the world. 

Art Catalogue free if you call upon the agent, 
or by mail from us for two 2-cent stamps. 

ROPE MFG. CO. 

Hartford, Conn. 

Branch Houses and Agencies are almost 
everywhere. If Columbias are not properly 
represented in your vicinity, let us know. 



All Columbia Bicycles are fitted with 
HARTFORD SINGLE-TUBE TIRES 

UNLESS DUNLOP TIRES ARE ASKED FOR. 

WE KNOW NO TIRES SO GOOD AS HARTFORDS. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



jy^ onarch 



King of Bicycles. 




Ride a MONARCH 
and keep in front. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



THERE'S A. 



^icl)mDn6 



IN THE FIELD. 

Do you wish to realize the Highest Degree of Pleasure 
and Comfort in Wheeling ? 

riounted on a 




irl)mon6 



CUSHION 
FRAME... 
BICYCLE 



You experience NO JOLT, NO JAR, 
NO STRAIN, but 
the most perfect 
sense of Ease and 
Luxury 



Descriptive Catalogue mailed to any address. 



RICHMOND BICYCLE CO., 

RICHMOND, IND. 

Eastern Branch, 97 Chambers St., New York. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 








'pie/ Dekter CUp^e^ agree- 
NO BETTER BICYCLE IS ^AOE 



(UtQ.1. 



(.Let.. 



■^^ qORMULLYSJEFFERYMFqCO 






HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



1897. 



Janney Pedals. 



THE HIGHEST GRADE 

AND 

MOST ARTISTIC PEDAL 



V A. ^ /s /^ 




It is important that the Pedal does not bind and 
tighten. We have a perfect bearing. No dirt, nor water 
can get in. The Oil cannot get out. 

It is New. It is Strong. It is Attractive. So riders 
who know, insist on having J.\nnev Ped.vls on their wheels. 



■^•H- 



Made hy . . . 

CYCLE IMPROVEMENT COMPANY, 

Westboro, Mass, U. S. A. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



= Veeder Cyclometer 

WEIGHT, ONE OUNCE. 

Water Proof, Dust Proof, Positive Movement Guaranteed. 

Absolutely Accurate. Fits any make Bicycle. 

Made for 26 inch and 28 inch Wheels. 




CUT EXACT SIZE. 



And Repeats. 



Model M Registers 999 J^ Miles. 
Model XM Registers 9999J^ Miles. 

Attached to front shaft inside of nut, obviating^ any pos- 
sibility of striking an obstacle and breaking the Cyclometer. 

This Cyclometer is less than one-naif the size of any 
Cyclometer on the market and yet the figures are larger 
and more distinct. 

Price $2.00. 

GUARANTEE. — In event of defect, breakage or failure 
to register properly, return the instrument and same will be 
satisfactorily repaired or a new one mailed free of charge. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




Beauty, Strength, Lightness and 
Comfort. 

Highest Quality for Traclc and Road use. 



MULLER MANFG. CO., 

605 W. 39th street, NEW YORK. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




ALWAYS READY FOR USE. NEED NO REPAIRS. 
LOW IN COST. 

Send for catalogue and prices. 

W. H. MULLINS, 274 Depot St., Salem, O. 



HAU^fTS OF WILD GAME. 



Trained Ferrets 



O 



Ready for immediate use, sold 
cheap. Circular giving infor- 
mation and cut of training field 
stocked with wild Rabbits free. 




FERRET BOOK, lo CENTS. 



♦ ♦ 



S. & L. FARNSWORTH, 

NEW LONDON, OHIO. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




Perfect 

Reliable 

Changing 



KING'S SnOKELESS 

Is made under the personal supervision of Milt F. 
Lindsley, inventor and late manufacturer of Amer- 
ican Wood Powder. 

Everybody knows that the " Champions " used 
" Old Wood " in making their great records. King's 
Smokeless is far superior to " Old Wood," being 
made by new formula and proccess, and will im- 
prove any man's score. It is perfect when sent out 
and never changes. 

King's Smokeless gives the Higliest Velocity ; Low 
Pressure ; Finest Pattern ; Light Recoil : and 
Is Clean and Smokeless 

It will neither Pit nor Rust the Gun. 

Insist on having your Shells loaded with it. 

The King Powder Co., 

CINCINNATI, OHIO. 

Manufacturers of the best of 
Black and Nitro" Powder 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



P 



CterS EXCEL IN 

Cartridges '^ 



Strength and Cleanliness 



-They are always Sure Fire and Accurate. 




PETERS LOADED SHELLS are Reliable. 
Strong and Effective, for Trap and Field Shooting. 

The Reinforced and New Victor Shells 
loaded with King'.s Smokeless especially 
adapted to the finest of Trap and Wing 
Shooting ::: ::: ::: ::: ::: 

Your dealer will supply them. 

THE PETERS CARTRIDGE CO., 

CINCINNATI, OHIO. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 



Tallapoosa, Ga., July 3d, 1896. 
The Peters Cartridge Co., 
Cincinnati, O. 
Gentlemen : — I have used some of the shells we bought 
of you. and without any flattery will say that I find them 
to be perceptably quicker and more effective than either 

, all of which we have used in our 

club. Every man in the club improved his score with 
YOUR SHELLS. Very respectfully, 

C. N. Williams, of Williams & Co. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



BRADFORD'S 
MAGAZINE 

First Number (Vol. i, No. i.) 

Will soon appear, dated January. 1897. Devoted 
exclusively to hunting, fishing, adventure, ex- 
ploration, travel and natural history. Will be 
practical and authentic. Printed from nev/ type. 
Issued on the first day of every month. Best of 
paper, articles, illustrations and typography. Pages 
will be carefully numbered up for binding. One hun- 
dred pages ; fifty cents a year. Single copies, five 
cents. Order now and get the initial number. A 
volume (one year, fifty cents) will make a beautiful 
library book. The staff of writers and artists will in- 
clude the most eminent travelers, explorers, natural- 
ists, scientists and sportsmen of 
the day. This new publication 
will be the representative 
sporting magazine of America. 
Chas. Barker Bradford, editor 
and proprietor, 487 Broadway, 
New York, N. Y. 



TT 




HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 




UNITED STATES NET 
AND TWINE CO., § § § 

cri»ftii-ia '{iaC'Pife. 

316 Broadway, New York. 



M 



AINE.— King and Bartlett Camps. Trout and big 
game. Harry M. Pierce, Euslis, Me. 



LUMINOUS BAIT. 




" With Luminous Bait you catch 

fish," while with others 

you might. 

A Handsome Fishing Scene 

mailed upon receipt of 4c. 

postage to cover mailing. 

Free for the asking : Illustrated 

Ijrice current of 

'•LUMINOUS BAIT." 

In all forms of Insects, Bait 

Trolling Spoons, etc., etc. 

Recommended by President 

Cleveland and other noted 

sportsmen. 

Ask your dealer for 

LUMINOUS BAIT. 



THE ENTERPRISE MFG. CO. 



Akron, Ohio, 
U.S.A. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



BLICKENSDERFER 




iw Price. Full Key-Board. Writing always ^f\ C 
Sight. Portability. E.xcellent Manifolder. i^^. *J 
Direct Printing and Inking. Interchangeable Type. 

QQ Most Durable Machine Made. Least Num- 



$35 



,= ber of Parts. Weight, Si.x Pounds. 

IT IS A MANIFOLDER. 



Heretofore it has been found impossible to manifold sat- 
isfactorily on a typewriter of the wheel class. This has 
really been their greatest weakness. Everyone admits that 
the printing is far superior, in fact, many users of type- 
writers keep a wheel machine for their general correspon- 
dence, and a lever machine for manifolding. 

The Blickensderfer No. 5, while possessing every desir- 
able feature of the wheel machine, has the direct powerful 
stroke of the lever class, thereby manifolding with un= 
equalled force and clearness. 

...DUPLICATING. .. 

This machine will do e.xcellent Mimeograph work. 



Factory : STAMFORD, CONN. 
New York Salesroom: 182 & 184 BROADWAY. 

(cOR. JOHN ST.) 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



Qeo. H. Burnham & Co 

— s (INC.) 

188 & 190 W. HOUSTON ST., 
....NEW YORK CITY, N. Y.... 




Estimates furnished.... 



PROnPT SERVICE. 



HAUNTS OF WILD GAME. 



ON 
00 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 762 757 



